


Horny Little Devils Dot Com

by BurnItAllDownDahling



Series: Horny Little Devils [1]
Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Animalistic, Blood, Like so much blood you guys, M/M, Multi, Resolved Sexual Tension, Rough Sex, Sex Work, Spardacest (Devil May Cry), transactional sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-02-12
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:07:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 33,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22126048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BurnItAllDownDahling/pseuds/BurnItAllDownDahling
Summary: Nero is a cam boy -- not a very good one, though, since he's hesitant to show his demonic arm to strangers. A mysterious customer tells him where he can find his true audience.
Relationships: Dante/Nero (Devil May Cry), Dante/Nero/Vergil (Devil May Cry), Dante/Vergil (Devil May Cry), Nero/Vergil (Devil May Cry)
Series: Horny Little Devils [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1736269
Comments: 68
Kudos: 514





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Standalone, unrelated to either the Family Affair or Repair 'verses. In this DMC5-era AU, the events of DMC4 and 5 did not occur. Nero's still got his demon-shaped Devil Bringer. Dante and Vergil worked it out somehow. Just roll with it.
> 
> Very brief mention of non-con happening in Nero's past.

It isn't the sort of thing Nero expects to keep doing, camming. Really, he didn't expect to do it at all. He's not exactly the all-American type that tends to make a lot of cash doing stuff like this. He's not blond; he's tried to dye his hair, but the chemicals aren't made for naturally white hair, and the result looked so cartoonishly shitty that he had to endure more than his share of ridicule around Fortuna until it grew out enough to shave off. He's too small to appeal to the viewers who like bears and beef, but too built -- and with too much natural attitude -- to play the twink well. He's not a nice boy, and it shows. And during his strictly-SFW introductory chat stream, a viewer mentioned that his eyes aren't a pleasant, inviting shade of blue, but something colder, too gray, bordering on otherworldly. Which made Nero kind of feel like shit. Guy didn't tip him anything, either.

And then there's his right arm. He can hide it during chat streams and close cams; he usually jerks off lefty anyway. The problem is that close camming isn't worth much. Anyone with a half-decent dick can do it, and lots of guys, exhibitionist types, do it for free. Viewers pay bigger money if they can see a cammer's whole body, especially if that body is nice. Nero knows he's at least got that much going for him... but he doesn't dare show it off, because of his arm.

Well. After a few weeks it's clear that the close-cam dick streams will consistently earn him about a hundred a pop. (Heh.) Which isn't much, but it's more than he had. At this rate he'll have enough to get off this shithole of an island in a year, maybe two. If he's lucky.

One day he's halfway through another chat stream when one of the guys private-messages, _Hey, you're part demon, aren't you?_

Camming is all about looking natural and comfortable while you perform. If viewers get the idea you're scared, you'll draw a whole other kind of crowd -- the kind that stalks and harasses to make you _more_ scared. The problem is, Nero _is_ scared now. He's fully dressed, showing himself only from the shoulders up. There's no way the viewer could've seen his arm. Which means the viewer's doxxed him or something. How? Is the viewer from Fortuna himself? Maybe he's talked to people from Fortuna who were all too ready to spill gossip about the local part-demon delinquent, who's too tainted for the Order of the Sword to touch. Does the guy know where he lives, then? Will he stalk Nero?

Showing fear isn't an option. Continuing to talk about sex as if the question hasn't completely fucked him up is out of the question too, though. Can't look comfortable when he's not. So he resorts to his only remaining option: fury.

"The fuck?" Nero lets himself scowl, even though he knows better. He's not cute when he's scowling. Sometimes he even bares his teeth and growls a little, which is... not sexy. But he has to deal with this. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean? You some kind of pervert, BadMofo69?" He's heard of people into demons. It's just a step above bestiality in his book, never mind that some distant ancestor of his must have tried it at some point. "You miss the rules of the stream? I told you I'm not into kinky shit. Not even via private chat."

He starts to close the private window, but there's an answer before he can.

_Hey, sorry, kid, just asking. It's just, your eyes._

Nero goes cold. Suddenly the anger isn't an act.

"Fuck off," he snarls. His arm's glowing, he's so pissed. That's bad. The glow will start to show through his clothes in the dim room. Viewers on the public channel are starting to comment on his temper, though mostly they're amused -- lots of _Ooh, feisty!_ and shit like that. But he's got to end this now. "Welp, I'm done. Sorry to cut it short, folks, but there's always one asshole who starts a fight and ruins the party, and BadMofo69 is that guy today. Blame him. See ya." That's as much as he can manage. 

And Nero's actually so pissed that, before he can think not to, he slaps the laptop shut -- with his right hand. Which is charged up, ready for a fight that isn't coming, and superhumanly strong even when he's very careful to restrain his power. He realizes he's lost control when the laptop not only shuts but smashes apart in several smoking, sparking pieces. The desk underneath it splits in two. The floor under the desk's legs cracks. The reverberation of the impact shakes the whole building a little, in fact, making dust fall from the ceiling and some of his neighbors cry out in surprise. Some dumbass upstairs yells, "Earthquake!" Then when the tremors fade, he hears the guy go, "Oh, guess not, sorry."

Damage is done, though. Fuck.

So Nero flops onto the bed with a groaning sigh, takes out his smartphone, and blows all the money he's earned from camming on ordering a new laptop.

So much for getting off Fortuna soon.

#

During the week that it takes for his new machine to arrive -- couldn't afford expedited shipping, and stuff mailed to Fortuna always takes forever -- Nero thinks about quitting cam work. He hasn't gotten very much out of it, other than some extra helpings to add to his already poor self-esteem, and enough cash to cover his own temper tantrums. Maybe he can just pull some extra shifts down at the docks, join the union, and earn enough to leave that way.

But when he asks after extra shifts, the dock supervisor hedges. "You're a good worker, kid," he admits, with visible reluctance. "Stronger than anybody else I've got. Buuuuut..."

He doesn't have to say it. Nero knows. Everyone on Fortuna knows that he's just some family-less, demon-tainted bastard. He's lucky to have gotten this job in the first place, and he should probably keep his mouth shut. Still, on top of everything else, it rankles enough that Nero snaps, "But what? I just heard you say last week you needed a crane loader. Suddenly I'm not good enough to put stuff on a big hook? Or are you saving that one for your brother-in-law, too?"

The supervisor glares at him, and Nero knows he's gone too far. Not that he's wrong about the nepotism. That's how things work on Fortuna -- you're either from one of the old island families that have been here forever, or you're nobody. You're either a member of the Order of the Sword, or you're nothing. But Nero, who is nobody, nothing, and non-human besides, has no business _calling out_ the nepotism. Corrupt people don't like being reminded that they're corrupt.

"No," the supervisor says, cold now. "You're not good enough to put stuff on a hook. And now you don't have to worry about loading ships, either, because you're fired."

Fuck.

His new laptop arrives that evening.

#

Nero opens up Chaturbate. He knows he shouldn't. He's not in the right headspace to do a stream -- not even a SFW chat. But the end of the month is coming, and he needs rent.

There are three private messages in his inbox. The first is spam. The second is a screenshot of some asshole pretending to lick his webcam. The third is from BadMofo69, whom Nero forgot to ban amid his angry flounce.

_Sorry again, kid,_ the message reads, when he stares at it because he can't believe the guy's fucking nerve. _I was just wondering why you were on this boring site when somebody with your looks could be making a mint over on HLD. Forgot Fortunans get touchy over shit like that._ Nero bristles. He's not Fortunan. They never let him forget it. _Anyway, all I meant was, your eyes are fucking gorgeous. Why not lean in to that? And wouldn't it be nice to not have to hide?_

BadMofo has signed this with, _The Baddest Motherfucker on the Planet_, because why be a little ridiculous when you can be a lot. Anyway. Nero's never heard of "HLD." He looks up the acronym. High level design, nope. High level disinfection for lung disease, yikes. And -- Nero stops scrolling. He sits there, for a moment, in shock.

**Horny Little Devils: Free Demonic Sex Cams, Live Devil Sex, Interspecies Chat! Why Limit Yourself To Just One World of Depravity?**

Ohhhhhhkay.

He skims the first page. Most of the cammers are doing standard stuff. _2000 tokens to make me cum! Breast play with a stick of butter. Me and my girlfriend fuck, that's it, that's the show._ But here and there on the page, Nero also sees something... else. An ethereally beautiful, but disturbingly pale, red-headed woman, with ruby-red eyes. _Welcome, sir. I'll treat you so nicely you'll never want to leave._ A slender, handsome young dark-skinned man with... feathery antennae? grins into the camera. _Hello, mates. All your guilty pleasures for the taking, and maybe my arse too?_ A blonde woman, also disturbingly, _inhumanly_ pretty, though with a wicked smile. _Teledildonics enabled_, she promises. Her eyes are very, very blue -- not his shade of blue, but still -- and cold as steel. _You'll feel the electricity when I do_. And near the bottom of the page, horrifyingly, Nero sees a cammer advertising himself with a screenshot of his erect penis. The thing is dark blue, with glimmering gold veins, and he's posed himself on a street somewhere, with a small European sedan nearby for comparison. His dick is bigger than the sedan. _They call me Goliath_, the stream title reads. _Cum see why. #size #furry_

Nero clicks on that one, just because... shit. He's gotta see that for himself. The stream resolves into a close cam. He can see narrow dark-skinned hips, a scrotum that looks like two boulders wrapped in a construction tarp, and... a hand that is very not human, with four fingers and massive horned talons at their tips, stroking the gigantic cock. The chat is in ecstasies. _Is it true you cum in gallons?_ one admirer has written. _10,000 tokens if you measure it this time!_

Definitely fetish, which explains why the site's not more popular. But it's also... well, it's definitely not bestiality, like Nero's always thought. Nero's killed plenty of demons, after all -- the Order of the Sword is always doing fucked-up experiments that set loose infestations on the island, and as a non-member of the faith, Nero is on his own for protecting himself from them. Usually the creatures look like bugs, or scarecrows, or plants, or fire centaurs. Nothing humanoid. Nothing with a real mind. But even through cheap-ass webcam lenses, Nero can tell that none of these demons are mindless animals. Are they all high-order demons? Humans with some unknown degree of demonic lineage, like Nero? Doesn't matter. Here, it seems clear, the things that make them "different" aren't impediments to the performance; they're the whole damn show.

And here, a mostly-human guy with nice abs and a freaky demonic arm... might fit right in.

With shaking fingers Nero sets up an account and picks a name. Different from the one he used on Chaturbate. People like demons here, right? So he picks "TheDevilBoyCumsXXX." It's corny, but gotta advertise the goods. It's surprisingly hard to type the stream title, though. _Cum see what me and my demon hand get up to._ It feels like a confession.

Then, nervous for the first time since he started doing this shit, Nero sets up his first stream. Nothing to see in the background except his cheapshit rooming-house bed and the cracked wall that badly needs paint, but can't be helped. He waffles between starting with his clothes on and starting naked so much that he's halfway between when the stream auto-starts. Pants off, dick hanging because he's not exactly feeling sexy, long-sleeved tee and the glove he usually wears to conceal his right hand still on. But the show must go on, so time to perform.

"Hey, there," he says, to the whopping 3 people watching. Nobody's talking. He smiles, and knows it looks nervous. Can't be helped. "Came to see the good stuff, huh? Well, let's get to it."

He has to take the shirt off. It's harder than he expects it to be. He's never shown his arm to anyone else on purpose. What if --

Fuck it. Biting his bottom lip, he undoes the glove and peels it off. Still silence, but now there are ten viewers. Maybe they'll think it's fake. He has to show the whole arm so they can see that it grows from his elbow this way. He shrugs off the shirt. Always takes a little longer to get it off the right arm because of all the armor bits and spars. 

He's gotta say something. 

"So, this is me." Shirt's off now. Everything's out there. He rubs a hand over his hair, feeling awkward and alien and just... he shouldn't have done this. God. What was he thinking? He doesn't want to look at the chat. He has to look at the chat.

Whoa. A hundred viewers already. He never got much more than that on his Chaturbate streams, and that was after multiple streams. And the comments:

_ Beautiful_

_ Look at that! It glows!_

_ His whole BODY, god, want to touch_

_ Nice arm, please use it to jerk off_

...Okay. So. That's new.

Heartened, Nero sits down in the plush chair he found on the street. The back of it's been clawed to bits by a cat, but from the front it's great -- wide so he can spread his legs, dark red in color so it highlights his skin. He slides his left, human, hand down his chest, splaying fingers over his abs. "I figure we can start slow, yeah? Get to know each other."

_ So muscle!!! Luv muscley diimon boye_

_ Italian mom here, want more babies, pretty like you_

Nero can't help laughing at that one. It's kind of sweet, but nobody really wants _his_ kids. The silly comments are helping him relax, though, and so he reaches down further and takes his wary cock in hand. He starts stroking, slow, trying to relax more. The trick is to imagine you're talking to somebody who's in the room. Who? Nero's had sex a grand total of two times, not counting the Order of the Sword priest who felt him up when he was fifteen. He quit the church after that. First time was with a girl from school. Not bad, and she liked him okay, but the whole experience made it clear that Nero didn't really swing that way. Most recent was with a coworker down at the docks who blew Nero in an alley and then pretended he didn't know Nero afterward. So, fantasy lover it is, then. 

He always tries to imagine the kind of person who'd want to be with him on a regular basis, but he can never come up with what that person looks like. All he can really imagine are abstracts and feelings. His lover would be somebody who actually likes him, obviously. Somebody who sees his arm and isn't scared of it or repelled by what it means. What would that person say to him?

_ God, I can't get enough of your body. You look so strong._

_ Oh, don't be scared, beautiful. Just let me see. You don't have to hide from me._

It's like electricity. The imagined voice runs through his body and he feels the heavy, heated sensation of blood starting to divert to his cock. That's good. Once he starts up, his dick doesn't go down on its own easily. He can edge for an hour, if he needs to, to make as much money as possible. He glances at the chat, and whoa. Six hundred and twenty-four viewers? Whoa. The comments are still admiring, and the tips...

Three hundred dollars in tokens? He's made _three hundred_ already? His dick isn't even all the way up.

_ oooo spread your legs, your hair's white there too_

_ rub your balls? please?_

_ love those fucking eyes, like ice, perfect_

_ can you use the demon hand? if it won't hurt_

Nero's into it, now. That last request is accompanied by a tip of $25, so he says, "I can maybe do that," grinning as he switches hands. The scratch of his own scaled palm is a little louder than he's used to, amid the silence of the room. So weird to jerk off this way. In his mind's eye, however, the hand wrapping around his cock blurs and becomes someone else's demon hand. Jesus, is he imagining himself fucking a demon? Okay, just go with it.

_ oh my god I thought you were all the way there but NOW you are, nice and fat_

_ magnificent cock!!1!_

_ the demon hand is so sexxxy, I want to lick it AND your dick_

_ please keep using demon hand sorry if hurts but i'm so close_

And the tips are coming in hard and fast, as Nero swallows and speeds up his stroke. $20 from the Italian mom when he deliberately grazes his balls with the backs of his armored knuckles. $50 from the guy who loves his eyes when he looks steadily at the camera for a few seconds. Lots of little tips too, and those are the ones that can make a night; a hundred $2 or $3 tips are way better than just two or three big tippers. This is amazing. At this rate, this one stream will give him enough to pay the rent and replenish his savings after the new computer.

But it feels too good with the demon hand, which catches and tugs at the soft skin enough to hurt a little. That's surprisingly nice. In his mind, Nero's imaginary lover is watching him now, and waiting for him to be done so he can, oh, flip Nero over and fuck him maybe, and he's murmuring, _You like it, gorgeous, don't you? The way it hurts a little. You like feeling that inhuman strength against your skin. Just wait 'til I get at you._

\-- and it's so _good_, this thought, even though he's never been fucked before and never really thought he wanted it, but if he met a guy who genuinely liked him and actually thought his _whole_ body was hot, he might. What would that be like? Gentle fingers rubbing lube into his asshole, delving in, stretching him out. Gentle teeth, but with the promise of pain, nipping at his back. Tight hands on his hips, prick of sharp fingernails on his skin. Something thick pushing into him, slow, even as the hand keeps working at his cock...

Nero loses it. It's only been ten minutes, but he groans and bites his lip and suddenly he's gushing all over his hand. Shit. He should've drawn that out, made people pay extra for the privilege, but it just felt too good. The tip counter is rolling steadily anyway, though; apparently people appreciate a good quick nut as much as a slow-build one.

_ !!!!!!!!!!!!!_

_ oh thank you, beautiful, look at that cum, so nice all over those pretty scales_

_ Want you in my mouth._

_ i nutted too_

_ that little groan when he came, perfect, I love him_

_ please say you're gonna become a regular_

And then, as Nero is still shuddering with aftershocks, he sees one more tip roll in. Jesus. A thousand dollars! Somebody just tipped him a _grand_. When he can move again, Nero sits up a little so he can see the viewer's name and thank the person.

BadMofo_SixtyNine. What.

There's a private message from BadMofo, too.

_ Hey, kid, you made it! See what I mean? You just needed the right audience. And wow, you're really fucking gorgeous. Do you do private streams?_

Nero swallows. Then he ends the stream, making sure to smile and thank everybody for joining in. Carefully, this time, he closes the computer. Then he just sits there, trying to figure out how to feel.

Private streams are something he swore he would never do. They're like lap dances, but because the cammer is performing for just one person, they have to pretty much do whatever that viewer says if they want to earn enough to make the whole thing worthwhile. He's heard stories from other cammers about viewers asking them to do awful or painful things, or stalking the cammer if they don't get exactly what they want.

But, well... Nero's just made more money in ten minutes than he did in the previous entire month of dock work and Chaturbate camming, combined. If BadMofo has the money to be dropping thousand-dollar tips...

He hasn't said anything _bad_ about Nero. It's irrational to hold a grudge because he spotted Nero's demon heritage even without the arm. And he did say that he _liked_ Nero's eyes.

Nero re-opens the computer. He's still logged in. He goes over to private messages and finds BadMofo's.

_Hey. Yeah, thanks for the suggest. I could do a private stream, maybe. What would you want to see?_

The answer comes back immediately.

_Whatever you want to show me. But what I really want is for **you** to see **me** while you do it. Also, I might bring somebody else to watch too, if he doesn't decide to be an ass about it. He's the one with real money. That okay?_

That's fucking weird. Nero types this. Then he erases it before he can hit send, and replaces it with, _Why?_

_God, you're suspicious. I just want to have a real conversation, kid. For money, while you fuck your hand or swallow a dildo. Nothing gross. Unless you want it gross._

Weird and mysterious. But will it really kill Nero to watch some knobby-kneed, slavering old basement dweller yank it to the sight of Nero's body?

He apparently hesitates long enough in replying that BadMofo decides to add something else. _Hey, if it helps, I'm gonna send a photo of myself. Okay?_

And before Nero can manage a diplomatic no -- he might do the private stream, but he doesn't want to see some knobby-kneed, slavering old basement dweller's shriveled dick pic -- a photo appears in the chat.

BadMofo isn't old. Middle aged, but not far north of forty. He hasn't sent a photo of his dick, either; it's a shoulders-up headshot instead, and he's clearly dressed in a black button-down shirt. He's leaning in a little, practically shoving his face at his webcam, grinning. He's... not bad looking. Grizzled. A loose flop of hair framing his face, nice cheekbones, lips thinner than Nero likes but not bad. Okay, BadMofo is actually kind of hot. Nero finds himself wondering a little what the guy's dick _does_ look like, but he's distracted from this thought by something else.

Namely, the fact that BadMofo's hair is white. Eyebrows, beard stubble, the little pores on his face where you can tell he shaved but the stubble hasn't come through yet... white. And maybe that's just because he's gone silver prematurely, but also, his eyes are a steely, _otherworldly_ shade of blue-gray. Not cold, but they could be. There is a knowing in them. BadMofo's seen some shit. He's also completely aware of what the sight of him is doing to Nero right now.

Nero's hands, even the demonic one, shake a little as he types back. _Okay. Tomorrow night, same time?_

_ You're on, kid. See you then._

#

Nero's early to the private chatroom. Anxiety. Unfortunately for his nerves, BadMofo is too. BadMofo's camera is already on. Nero bites his lip and fidgets and takes a deep breath to calm himself, then finally engages two-way.

BadMofo is too close to the camera again. "Hey, there, kid. Nice to finally meet you face to face, so to speak."

"H-hi," Nero says, and immediately hates himself for that stammer. "Uh, could you move back? I can mostly only see your left eye."

"Oh." There's the scrape of chair wheels, and then BadMofo sits back. That's better. Now Nero can see that he's in a nice executive-style office chair, a few feet in front of a wooden wall. In the background, there's a classic old jukebox that looks well-maintained. He's wearing the black shirt again -- different style and material, still black though -- and jeans, and he's as relaxed as Nero isn't. He smiles. It's lopsided and smug. It's like he knows Nero's looking. "Better?" 

"Uh, yeah." Nero rubs a hand over the back of his head, realizes it makes him look nervous, and he makes himself stop. "Nice to meet you, too."

"Good. Now, so we don't have to stress over the money thing -- " BadMofo leans forward and taps something on his keyboard, and... shit. Another thousand-dollar tip. "There. Let's just say that's a flat fee for the next hour, capische? After that, we'll see what happens."

It helps. A lot. This isn't a waste of time. Nero nods, relieved. "Okay. So, uh, you got anything in mind for me?"

"I told you -- whatever you want to do. Though I do want _something_, you understand." BadMofo grins. "You're too pretty to just sit there."

"Yeah, cool. Well, uh, I don't have any toys or anything, so... maybe just more of what you got yesterday?"

"Sounds good. And while you get undressed, let's do some Q&A."

"Okay." Nero gets to his feet and slips off his shoes. "I'll start, then. How'd you know I'm in Fortuna?"

"It was on your profile. A lot of cammers have their location on; I guess it's an opt-out setting or something."

Great. Nero starts to pull off his pants. He's got boxers on, dark blue silk, just for this. Trying to feel sexy again, but he's too fucking nervous. He has so many questions, and he can't bring himself to ask any of them.

"My turn," says BadMofo. "What the hell are you _doing_ in Fortuna?"

Nero snorts a bitter laugh. "Surviving."

BadMofo pretends to look around at the edges of the screen, on the porn site where Nero is currently selling himself. "Yeah, I can see that. What I mean is, I've never visited, but I hear Fortuna's not exactly the safest place for, uh, people like us. So how'd you end up there?"

"I was born here, probably." 

"Probably?"

Nero shrugs again. He can almost feel the man watching him through the monitor, like sunlight on that side of his skin. This doesn't start to bother him until he bares his arm, which he again does last, with his eyes averted, while half turned away. "I'm an orphan, see. I figure my mom must have been Fortunan, and either she did it with a foreigner who had demon blood, or maybe she got raped by a demon herself." Had to be rape. No sane woman would take up with a demon willingly. "Either way, families around here wouldn't keep a kid like that. But the Order tolerates demon-blooded people as long as we don't, you know, eat anybody." The Order didn't make life easy for those demon-blooded people, either, though -- but BadMofo doesn't need to know all that. "So, uh. 'People like us?'"

BadMofo's smile is wider than it should be. It's a subtle thing. Just a touch. But usually, human smiles don't show every tooth. "Oh, yeah. People with a demon inside them."

Nero goes still. "What?" He's not fucking _possessed_. 

BadMofo shrugs, still smiling. "Not what you're thinking. I just mean, we're more than we seem, is all. Except you seem to be a little less, mmm, _hidden_ than me. Just putting it all out there, aren't you?" He lifts a hand and seems to stroke the camera lens, and Nero somehow knows that BadMofo means Nero's arm. There is something admiring in his expression. "That arm means your true power's more than your body could contain in a purely human shape. God, I bet you're strong as hell."

Nero's arm tingles with the phantom touch, and he lifts it selfconsciously, staring down at its glowing veins. "I don't... I don't know. I guess?" He needs to know. "You don't have any, uh, parts?"

"What, like a demon arm?" BadMofo does jazz hands. His hands are perfectly human. He grins, wickedly. "Well..."

In a flash, he is _different_. Same general face shape, but now set amid skin that is black-scaled, with red undertones. Same amused eyes, now glowing like living fire. Same lopsided smile, but the teeth are razor-sharp, and black. The familiar jaw is lined with deadly-looking spines instead of unshaven stubble. It's _him_, but --

\-- but then BadMofo is himself again. His skin is just flesh and not armor, and he's smiling with normal teeth. Perfectly human... Except now Nero knows the humanity is just a shell, concealing what BadMofo truly is.

"I don't have any demon parts in _this_ shape," BadMofo concludes.

Nero stares. He's shaking. Also, his arm is glowing brighter than usual, for some reason. He lowers his arm and swallows hard. "Wh-what are..."

"Me? Dad was a demon. Mom was human; she had weird taste in men. You?" Mofo shrugs. "No idea. But you've obviously got enough demon in you to count. Probably more than you know."

As Nero tries to absorb this, there's a sound in the background of Mofo's view. Someone else has come into the room. Another body, visible only as black leather pants and one bare arm, moves behind his chair. This hand, longer-fingered than Mofo's, comes to rest on Mofo's shoulder. "Dante. What foolishness are you getting up to, now?"

"Just spending your money on porn." Mofo -- _Dante_ \-- lifts a hand to pat the newcomer's. There is comfortable affection in this gesture. "Come take a look at my new friend, here."

There is the creak of leather as the other person bends a little, though he does not put his face into range of the camera. There is a moment of silence, and then, softly, the voice says, "Interesting. And lovely."

"Isn't he?" Dante eyes Nero again. Nero stands frozen, still stunned by the affirmation of what he is, and by being found attractive, again and again, by so many strangers. He has thought himself nothing, less than nothing, for so long. Dante leans back in his chair, relaxing beneath the newcomer's hand. "DemonBoy here is from Fortuna."

"_Well_, now. That was a long time ago."

"Problem?"

"Why would there be?" The stranger's hand squeezes Dante's shoulder. "He's just standing there, though."

Nero jumps. "S-sorry," he says. He's still got the boxers on, and suddenly they feel foolish, like the weak attempt at eroticism that they are. Swallowing, Nero slides the boxers off. He's not hard at all, but abruptly he feels like this is all right. There's no more need for pretense, here in this private space. He can be himself. 

So Nero sits down and takes a deep breath, and passes his human hand down his chest. It's shaking. He's still too nervous. "Look, I, uh, I know you said to do what I want, but it would really help if you told me what you want, here."

"Dante. You're so useless, leaving this poor boy spinning in the wind." The hand moves over Dante's collarbones to his throat, then up to cup his face. A thumb moves over Dante's lips. Dante opens his mouth a little, his eyes half-lidding, and there's something about this, seeing his obvious pleasure, that stirs an odd sensation in Nero's guts. Arousal? Envy? Maybe a little of both. "For now, why don't you just do as I do?"

It seems like a good place to start. Hesitantly, Nero starts to lift his human hand to his own lips. "No," says the voice, and he freezes. "The other hand. I'm using my right hand, after all."

"Oh. Right." Awkwardly, Nero switches hands. It's harder doing fine things with the demon hand. He has to concentrate more so he doesn't use too much strength, and his fingers aren't quite as sensitive though the layer of armor. This, however, makes him focus more closely on what he's doing. On the softness of his own lips, rather than anxiety about what they think of his cheap bedspread in the background, or fear of what they might ask him to do next, or the constant expectation that they will suddenly decide his arm is ugly and reject him along with it. He finds himself fascinated, suddenly, by the way Dante so obviously likes being touched by this man. They've been lovers a long time, it's clear. What is it like, having someone touch you when they not only genuinely like you, but _love_ you?

"Very good." Now the strange man drags his fingertips down Dante's throat, slowly and meditatively. Dante lifts his chin a little, so Nero does the same, trailing his own hard fingertips down his skin. He has to be careful doing this; his talons are short, but sharp and wickedly curved. Still, he manages to do it without tearing out his own throat, and then he follows the man's hand as it traces Dante's collarbone again, slowly pushing aside the collar of his shirt. 

Dante abruptly grumbles and starts unbuttoning the shirt. "Don't shred this one. I like it."

"Then get it off. Be _au naturale_ like our new friend, here." When Dante stands to unbuckle his jeans, the stranger becomes just a voice behind him, invisible. "What's your name, 'Devil Boy?'"

Names are verboten. But Nero knows Dante's name, now, and... and he suddenly wants, badly, to know the name of the strange voice. Should he use a fake name? No. Got to give a little to get a little. "Nero."

"Nero." The voice says this with such pleasure that Nero shivers with it. He's never heard his name spoken like that before. "How fitting. You may call me Vergil."

It's a corny name. Probably fake -- Dante and Vergil, like the _Inferno_, ha ha, very cute. Still, Nero likes having a handle for the owner of that voice. "Okay, Vergil. Nice to meet you."

Dante turns back to the camera after undressing, and -- Jesus. His dick is right there in front of the camera, big and beautiful, rising proudly from a thicket of snow-white hair. What's got him this hot and bothered, Nero? Or Vergil? Maybe both. Then Dante flops himself back into his chair and pulls Vergil's hand back to his shoulder. Dante's shoulders are broader than Nero's, his muscles bigger and more sharply defined. Maybe he's stronger. Nero swallows, torn between lust and a vague desire to fight Dante for no reason. Dante's fidgety, on edge. "There. Come on, let's go."

"Impatient." Vergil's voice is fond, even with this scold. "You'll make a bad impression on Nero, brother."

Brother? Whoa. But isn't it kinkier yet that they're the products of willing sex between a human and a demon? Nero finds himself intrigued, rather than repelled, by this. What is it like to be touched by someone who not only loves you, but is _part_ of you?

"Yeah, yeah." Dante pulls Vergil's hand down his pectoral to one nipple. Reflexively Nero moves his hand there too, on his own chest. The rasp of his armor over the hardening nub of flesh is new and strange, and he likes it, his cock twitching inadvertently. He catches his cock in his human hand; not soft anymore, either, not by a long shot.

Vergil is only that soft, compelling voice, and that long-fingered hand, which now draws little circles 'round Dante's nipple. "You truly are lovely, Nero. Perfect proportions, visible strength and elegance. Spread your thighs, a little. I want to see you."

It feels so good, all this admiration. And though Nero knows that he's only enjoying it so much because he he feels so low at any other time, and because Vergil has probably figured this out and is manipulating him... it still feels special, that they seem to find Nero so attractive. 

So Nero spreads his thighs wide, palming himself and shifting his hips up so they can get a good look. Dante makes a low, pleased sound and does the same, canting his hips and taking his already-magnificent cock in his left hand. When Dante slips his hand down to roll the heel of his hand against his balls, Nero tries this too, though he's never really bothered with his balls before. The sharp, unexpected pleasure of it makes him inhale. Dante smiles knowingly, and Nero swallows.

"How responsive you are. It's almost like you're here with us." There's another flex of leather, and Vergil bends to at last bring his head into range of the camera. He's looking at Dante at first, so all Nero can see is hair -- white hair, swept back from what looks like a broad brow. (White hair. _White_ brows.) Vergil slides his hand down to take Dante's cock in hand while Dante's hand keeps gently working his balls. Nero swallows hard, but then does the same, taking his cock in his demon hand and continuing to massage his balls with the human one. It's not the same. Vergil's hand is soft. There's no pain in the way he strokes Dante. It's good, though. So good. _Too_ good. He's hard as shit, now, and he has to stop stroking after a minute, because he's not going to last otherwise.

Vergil glances up, and Nero beholds him at last. Different face-shape from Dante's -- more triangular, less jaw and more cheekbones. His eyes are the same color, but so cold and hard that they're like ice. They don't fit the warmth of his voice at all. Still, the contrast between the voice and those eyes makes Nero's skin prickle with goosebumps. And when Vergil smiles, it feels like both warning and promise.

"That won't do," Vergil says, after watching Nero for a moment. "The positions are the same, but not the sensations, obviously. Hmm."

There is a sudden flicker, too quick to register consciously -- but in the wake of it, as Nero's brain processes enough to catch up with what his eyes have seen, he realizes he _recognized_ some of it. Black scales, blue-edged and shockingly familiar. Blazing blue eyes, their former ice now gone hot as fire... and the same color as the veins of light in Nero's demon arm. 

Then Vergil is Vergil again, watching Nero with those ice eyes, his gaze heavy with meaning. But now, the hand that curls around Dante's cock has talons.

It's not the same as Nero's hand. The only change is at the tips, where Vergil's fingers are just a little longer and darker-shaded, though still scale-less. His fingernails have become small black talons. Nero can tell this is a halfway state. An approximation of something else. But the talons are sharp, and as Nero watches, one of them deftly draws a thread-thin laceration into the taut skin of Dante's cock. Dante hisses a little, but his hips jerk up, _into_ Vergil's grip, and not away.

And Nero's dick throbs, suddenly, with sympathetic craving. 

Biting his lip, Nero curls the fingers of his right hand a little. The pain of cutting his own skin is sharp and hot, and... God. Oh, God, he's not getting off on watching a guy who is probably his fucking _father_ bleed his uncle's dick. He's not getting off on inflicting the same pain on himself. Is he?

"You'll have to mirror rather than imitate this, I think," Vergil says. (Are his canines sharper? Oh, God.) "Start at the throat and go down, while I move up."

"Um, okay."

Vergil straightens, slowly, and shifts his hand from Dante's cock to press it flat against Dante's lovely taut abdominals. As his hand slides up the skin, four thin, parallel lines of red appear. Dante shudders, his eyes fluttering as he shifts his hand back to his cock. It's not bleeding anymore. Healed fast, just like Nero does whenever he's hurt. But the blood smears as he strokes himself, and Nero's mouth... waters. He's always imagined what it would be like to suck someone off. The weight on the tongue. The salt of skin, and, and blood, what does that blood _taste_ like, what would it feel like to have those strong hands holding his head, that beautiful cock forcing its way down his throat while Dante's rich laugh echoes around him --

Oh, God. He _is_ getting off on it.

Okay. Focus. He's got rent to earn.

Nero's demon hand shakes as he lifts it. Rests it against the base of his throat. Shifts his human hand to grip his cock -- just grip, he's already too hard, he can't stroke himself or he'll come. But then, matching Vergil's speed, he slowly drags the hand down. It's so easy to let his claws do what they do best, catching at his skin and slicing through it like butter. The pain is hot and fierce and worse than it should be. He's hypersensitive, his body craving the twitch of his own nerves. The scent of blood rises around him, and suddenly he's panting out loud, shuddering helplessly as the combination of pain and pleasure seems to echo back and forth from one nerve to the other, reflecting and building, tightening his balls and making even his scalp tingle as his whole body rings with imminent release --

"Not yet," Vergil says softly. "Oh, not yet. We're not done."

Is he speaking to Dante, or to Nero? It doesn't matter. Nero tightens his grip on himself, groaning through his teeth as this pushes the orgasm back. Dante is making a soft sound, too, twitching with visible excitement as Vergil draws his pinky-claw around one nipple in a circle. Dante's belly, wet with lines of blood, heaves fitfully with his breathing. He has turned his head away from Vergil, and Nero finds himself suddenly and almost painfully focused on the taut cords of Dante's neck. He wants to lick Dante's skin, set his teeth against those tendons. Something about the tension there... what? Somehow, Nero knows that Dante wants to come and can't. Why? Impossible to tell, but Nero understands the feeling intimately. It hurts to hold back like this. He needs to come so bad that it _hurts_. Yet he holds. He has to. Every instinct in him demands it.

Vergil's free hand, which is still human-shaped, comes around Dante to stroke the backs of its fingers down the long line of Dante's neck. It is as if Nero feels this touch on his own skin, as if he is not quite in full control of his own body anymore. He makes a low, abortive sound and then tilts his head, turning his face as Dante has done -- as much as he can without looking away from the screen. He _needs_ to see. They want him to see, these gorgeous, powerful men; they're getting off on his reactions as much as his body. He needs to see and he needs something else, so bad that his body aches with it... or maybe that's just his wildly rising, desperate need to come. The cuts on his flesh have healed, but he keens softly with this new demand, and the pain of that need is exquisite.

"Exquisite," Vergil breathes. His human hand slides out of sight, into Dante's hair. He grips that hair tightly enough that Dante's face twists. (Nero's human hand twitches. He stops himself from trying to grab his own hair. For fuck's sake, he's barely got any, and... what the _hell_ is wrong with him?) "You're shaking, Nero. There's no need to be afraid."

_Don't be scared, beautiful._

Speaking is hard. Nero's teeth chatter as if he's cold; he's not. "N-not scared. I just..." He makes himself swallow, and even that's almost too much; the small involuntary movement jolts his body enough that his hand moves on his dick, and he can't, he can't, Vergil has told him not to. "Please. I r-really need to come!"

Dante growls. It isn't a human sound, and with his face in profile, Nero can see how his lips draw back from his teeth, how sharp some of those teeth have become. Vergil smiles, and it is like Dante's smile, too wide, inherently unsettling. "Do you. I suppose I can oblige you both, then."

He bends again. Dante's breath is a harsh, quick rasp. He is braced for something, tense for it, needing and fearing it. Nero is, too. Vergil nuzzles Dante's ear and Nero moans. He knows how this sounds, God, everything about this private stream is fucked up, but he can't help it. He is caught up in these men's lust, chained to them through the fragility of an internet connection, and he needs -- he needs -- oh, God, he really fucking _needs_ \--

Vergil bares his teeth and blurs like a snake, and suddenly he has _bitten_ Dante, right at the juncture of neck and shoulder. Nero cries out as Dante does not, but then he bucks as Dante does, because there is fire burning at his shoulder, nothing's there but he _feels_ it, fuck, it hurts and Dante is bleeding and he sees how Dante writhes in his chair, eyes rolling back and fluttering shut, some unbelievable tension flowing out of him like water, and then his hips buck and that magnificent cock gushes and _Nero_ is coming, he can't help it anymore, and he can't look at the screen either because he has arched in his chair and flung back his head and uttered a cry of stark, desperate relief as the orgasm that floods his body nearly breaks his mind. It is so unbelievably good. He bucks, nearly tipping the chair over, unable to scream because he can't fucking breathe. It _pounds_ at him, wave after wave of pleasure, but even amid this he is aware that it's still somehow short of what it could be. There is something that he needs which is missing, a sensation he has imagined but craves in reality -- teeth that aren't there, set deep in flesh which is unbroken, and a presence pressing down on his, taking him, making him anew...

And then the orgasm finally lets Nero go. He lies flopped in his chair in its wake, gasping and helpless and completely done.

Dimly he is aware of Dante moaning, and the squeak of chair-wheels on the screen, and a growl so low and demanding that it cannot be human underlying all of this. Then, slowly, the sounds taper off. As Nero lies there, his head spinning, he becomes aware of their attention again. Somehow this is good. So he makes a Herculean effort, and dredges up enough energy to lift his head.

Dante's gaze is lazy and half-lidded; his head is still flopped back against the back of the chair, and he has stretched up an arm to loop around Vergil. Blots of come slide down his belly and the shaft of his cock, mingling with drying blood. Vergil is watching Nero, his gaze hot and savage in a way that it has not been, overtly, before now. There's blood on his lips. Also some on Dante's shoulder, though smeared as if someone has licked at it. Nero can feel Vergil's lust like a leash tugging at his throat.

"Such a delicious boy," Vergil says, and Nero's skin goosebumps. There are two voices speaking these words -- Vergil's and something much deeper, less human. "So far away, though. Come and visit us, Nero, at Devil May Cry. We'd love to have you."

Then he leans forward and taps something quick on Dante's keyboard. Nero's tip counter pings, and it's a measure of Nero's afterglow that he will only freak out about the number that appears later, because Vergil has just tipped him _ten thousand dollars_.

It's not just the afterglow, though. He also can't think about the money yet because after doing this, Vergil hauls Dante out of the chair by his hair, and both of them move away from the camera. Not far. Nero can hear shifting items, a clatter of small objects being shoved out of the way. The thump of a heavier body being put in their place. Soft sliding sounds of flesh on flesh, soft mingled frantic breaths, wet sounds -- and then hard, rhythmic jolting sounds. The camera vibrates a little with each movement. They want Nero to hear them, to "feel" them. Dante moans, his voice broken by the rhythm. "God, don't stop, don't stop fucking, I want you to come all over me, Vergil, God, please." And Vergil snarls that low, inhuman snarl again --

Nero closes the laptop. He has to. It's too much.

He has to crawl to make it from the chair to the bed. The orgasm has sucked everything out of him. He hauls himself onto the bed, curls up on top of the covers, and shakes until he falls asleep.

#

In the morning, Nero looks at his closed laptop for a long while. He doesn't open it. He just sits there, rocking a little and holding himself, like a junkie needing a fix.

Then he gets up. He doesn't own much, and most of it is secondhand trash found on streetcorners or at thrift stores. When he aged out of the orphanage he had only the clothes on his back. No relatives. No future. He was nothing. If he stays on Fortuna, nothing is all he'll ever be.

If he goes to the mainland, though, he'll go find this "Devil May Cry." He won't be able to help himself. And if he does that, Dante and Vergil will devour him. He doesn't know how he knows this. He doesn't know what it means. He's not sure why he isn't more scared by the possibility.

What is it like, to be wanted? To be a part of something? 

He thinks he wants to find out.

So he throws out most of his stuff, packs the paltry rest into a duffel bag, gives notice to his landlord, and then heads for the docks. He sees his old supervisor, just passing by, while he's in the middle of buying a ticket on the next mainland ferry. The guy stares at Nero. Nero smirks at him, then flips him off as he walks up the gangplank onto the ship.

The ship pulls away from the dock. Nero goes to the bow where he can watch the mainland grow larger with the passing hours. Not once does he ever look back.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nero has crossed a continent for them, wanting, yet fearing. Dante's waiting for him with open arms and teeth.

Dante needs to fuck the kid as soon as he sees him.

He's angry at first. It's been a long day of devil hunting -- not anything particularly difficult, just a tedious cleanup job. Dozens of scarecrows in an abandoned church; mostly he's mad because it was boring. But as he walks into Devil May Cry, he immediately becomes aware that there's an intruder within his territory. A demon, in his _house_. And this one isn't more low demon vermin, but something with a sharper presence, whose power reverberates on his senses with enough intensity to make him wary.

The scent that greets him as he comes inside is unfamiliar, but intriguing. It's not as nuanced as it should be, for a demon who's either openly invading or surreptitiously sneaking into another's territory. An invader's scent should be an olfactory challenge, sharp with musk and and other aggressive pheromones. An infiltrator's scent should be subdued or camouflaged, consciously or unconsciously, so as not to attract attention. This scent is neither a threat nor a deception; it's bold, simple, like the statement of a contestant's measurements during a beauty pageant. Young, but sexually mature. Male. Human and demon, though this is the only component of the scent that puzzles Dante, because it seems to fluctuate by the moment -- mostly demon one moment, mostly human another. The owner of the scent is tired and smells strongly of anxiety, and also of a city park that Dante's been to before, over on the south side of the city. Dante's not as deft at making sense of scents as Vergil -- his life has never depended on doing so -- but even for his late-trained nose, it's somehow easy to discern that this melange of scents is... an _advertisement_. Something in this tired young man's pheromones really wants Dante to know everything about him. And that solidifies Dante's guess, because there's only one healthy young male part-demon who would have any reason to come to DMC. And sure enough, as Dante prowls through the lobby, he finally finds the kid curled up in a corner behind the couch, asleep.

Seeing this kills Dante's anger, which is just him being territorial anyway. But the kid's not an intruder; he's an invited guest. Guests get to live. And this guest... is due for some very special, red-carpet, treatment.

He stands over Nero, breathing him in, checking him out. Smaller than Dante expected, though some of this is the fact that Nero is sleeping in a ball with his knees drawn up and one arm wrapped around them and his head down and his demon arm folded over his head and the back of his neck. It is a defensive posture that immediately alerts Dante as to what a good portion of this kid's life has been like. He's too strong to have been physically bullied, but humans are creative as hell when it comes to making someone's life miserable, no matter how strong that person is. Nero sleeps like someone battened down against attack when he is in this most vulnerable state. He also stinks of the ketones of pushing his body past its limit on little food, which explains why he's sleeping so deeply right now. And to judge by how thoroughly such scents permeate his shabby thrift-store clothing, he does this a lot. Not eating until he must. Not sleeping until he's somewhere safe, or can't stay awake anymore. No scent of a sexual partner, now or anytime in the past few weeks, though plenty of arousal endorphins, and some faint scent-marbling from self-gratification. It's been a week since that delightful private session on Horny Little Devils, but horny little Nero's had nothing but his hand for a lot longer than that.

A healthy, _unclaimed_ young part-demon, too inexperienced to know better, too weak to fight back successfully, who has been seduced into entering Dante's lair. Poor, foolish child. Demons are covetous creatures, with a tendency to hoard treasures; Devil May Cry might as well be Nero's Hotel California. And yet. It _is_ pure, possessive lust that curls in Dante's belly and thickens his cock -- but something else stays his twitching hands. Something more human. This boy is kin, after all. Family should look out for its own.

It's a thin chain of self control, but enough to allow Dante to sit down on the couch instead of tossing Nero over it. He knows he should give the kid some space, but he can't; he needs to _see_ Nero, and breathe in that oh-so-alluring scent of his, even though doing so keeps Dante on edge and uncomfortably, _violently,_ aroused. He can't bring himself to walk away. When one's inner demon wants something this much, one chooses one's battles.

Abruptly Nero is awake. He doesn't move, his breathing doesn't change, but Dante is hyperaware of him right now, so of course he notices when the kid's heartbeat speeds up and a tinge of tension enters his scent. He's awake, and he knows he's not alone, so he's playing possum to assess his surroundings before he decides how to react. Good instincts. Dante grins and says, "So you finally made it."

After a moment, Nero uncurls and gets to his feet. Dante's lust ripens further; the boy is uncommonly graceful in his wariness, and subtle in his defensiveness. He doesn't have a sword, but he keeps that demon arm shifted forward, ready to use as a shield -- and it's probably got some offensive capabilities, too, given the kid's stance. It makes Dante's smile widen, though he has to fight to keep his teeth from sharpening. Fights are the best foreplay.

"Yeah," Nero says, after a moment. "Hope it's okay that I came in. The door was unlocked."

"I don't usually bother locking the door. There's nothing in here humans would want... that they can get to, anyway. And _uninvited_ demons know better." Dante crosses his legs. It's a little uncomfortable, given how hard his dick is, but it suggests a relaxation he doesn't feel -- and Nero relaxes, just a touch, at the sight. Then again, Dante's scent is working on him, too. The kid shifts a little, his gaze drifting away from Dante's face and wandering down, before Dante speaks and he jerks it back up. "Verg and me, we expected you days ago."

Nero shrugs. "Fortuna's a long way from here."

"So what'd you do, walk?"

"Ran, mostly. Back roads and stuff." When Dante stares, Nero sets his jaw. "I don't know how to drive. Also, no car."

"There's planes, kid. Trains. Hitchhiking, hell. But I know you've got money right now."

"I've never been on a plane. And it cost a lot." Nero shifts, more visibly uncomfortable, now. "I don't know when I'll have _more_ money, so I'm trying not to waste it, in case... in case. Once the ferry from Fortuna brought me to the mainland, I _could_ run it, so I did."

Dante laughs and shakes his head. But the notion of this boy, backwater-gormless and fearful of rejection, nevertheless _running_ to them, makes him even hungrier. Much more of this and he's going to lose control. So Dante gets up -- reining himself in sharply when Nero flinches back and almost triggers his prey reflex -- and makes himself stretch. "Well, you're here now, so that's what matters, I guess. Gonna order us a pizza. You want to head upstairs and take a shower? You do kinda smell like you ran the whole way."

The kid blushes and mumbles something affirmative, so Dante gestures for him to follow, and leads him up to the bedroom. The kid's anxious scent sharpens when he sees the big bed, and doubtless picks up Vergil's scent as well as the lingering aroma of sex and blood. Dante moves to lean against the dresser on the other side of the room, faux casual, putting the bed between them. It's not a subtle message, but there's not a lot of point to subtlety at the moment; he figures his own scent is probably doing some pretty obvious advertising of its own, along with a clear statement of intent. And sure enough, after a moment something ripples through Nero's scent that is distinctly _not_ anxiety. He eyes Dante sidelong and swallows. "Didn't think you'd be so picky about how I smell."

Dante lets himself breathe out a laugh. "Easier to make you smell like me if you're clean to start."

Nero's cheeks flood with color, and -- ooh. He licks his lips. Likes the idea of being scent-marked, huh? God, Dante's going to _eat_ him. Then Nero sets his jaw and lifts his chin in tacit challenge. "We gonna have time for the pizza? I'm pretty hungry."

The kid is everything Dante dreamed he would be. No bullshit, and even if he's scared, it's not going to stop him. "I'll try," Dante says, "but no promises. It's about all I can do to stay this far away from you right now. Sorry."

Nero ducks his head. Dante's gaze locks onto the back of his neck for a moment, and then he drags his eyes back to the kid's face. "It's okay. I, uh... I figured, after how we met on HLD, that if I came here, you'd want... more."

"And here you are."

He's staring at the bed on which they both know Dante's about to fuck him senseless. "Yeah. Here I am. Where's, uh..."

"Your father?" Dante grins with deliberate cruelty. A muscle in Nero's jaw flexes, but he's not freaked out. Well, he's had a week to contemplate the humanish immorality of incest... and here he is. "Vergil's off doing whatever Vergil does. Probably he'll be over tomorrow." Though this thought makes Dante edgy for an entirely different reason.

Nero nods, awkwardly. There's nothing more to say then, so he heads into the bathroom. Dante makes himself call for that pizza. He's got an account with all the local places, and the delivery guys all know him well enough to and just come in and deposit the thing on the desk downstairs -- no matter what they might hear coming from upstairs at the time. Then he waits, absently putting a hand down to roll his palm against his aching cock as if to soothe it. _Down boy_, he thinks at it, amused. _We'll take you out for a good long walk, real soon now._

He knows who'll be on the phone as soon as it rings, but he picks up anyway. There's a moment of silence on the other end, and Dante doesn't bother to speak, either. They've never really needed words, between them. But after a moment, Vergil says, "I take it our young friend has arrived at last."

"Yeah."

"Shall I come over?"

Dante has to hold himself still for a long, pent moment before he answers, because everything in him wants to roar a challenge. It's a warning sign that the kid has set off something abnormal in him, because usually he _doesn't_ challenge Vergil. Vergil is the elder brother; he's the one who cares about stuff like who's in charge and who's on top and who sinks teeth into whom. Dante usually just lets him have his way, because it's too much work to give a shit. But right now? He very much gives a shit about who gets the kid first. That's... possibly not a good thing. Then again, maybe it is. He decides to just go with it.

"No," he says. "Don't come over 'til tomorrow."

"Are you certain?" Vergil's voice is low and amused. "He doesn't seem very experienced, and your demon can be... intense. If I take care of his, hmm, _initiation_, you can play the good guy. The one who picks up the pieces, licks his wounds; the tender, jovial uncle, balancing the cold father. Wouldn't you prefer that?"

He would. He likes Nero already, and his protective urges must be obvious if Vergil is tormenting him with this. Vergil's favorite thing is to confront you with truths you don't want to admit. 

But. _But_. It's really too late for any of that. Has been since Dante found Nero hiding behind his couch. Vergil knows that, too, he suspects, and is just fucking with him.

"Don't come here until tomorrow," he repeats. This time the demon is in his voice, deep and cold with possessive threat. Vergil begins to laugh softly. Dante hangs up on him, with exaggerated care so that he doesn't break the phone again. Rotary phones are hard to find these days. 

Then he goes still, because Nero has emerged from the bathroom, clad in a towel. The shower's washed off all the tiredness and travel, and now the kid just smells supremely fuckable.

"Was that him?" Nero asks. 

Dante can't look at him. He strokes the phone receiver, licks his lips; the thread of his self-control is fraying so quickly. He's panting a little, mouth watering for the taste of nephew-flesh. "Yeah."

"You told him not to come." It's a question.

"I don't think you're ready for him, yet. No offense."

He can hear the kid lick his lips. Smell the subtle shift of his scent, from fear to something like a challenge. "Am I ready for you, then?"

Oh, God. That's it. There go the brakes. 

Dante chuckles in spite of everything -- and then he straightens and looks at Nero. The kid's jaw tightens at the sight of whatever is in Dante's face. "I don't know, kid," he says, and his demon says, both of them of one mind at last. "But whether you are or not, you're about to find out."

He moves. He wants to control himself, he really does; he does not want to be an animal. But the kid is just too pretty and too strong and too afraid, and he's _attracted_ to Dante, he came here to _offer himself_ to Dante, and the demon's just not going to let that go any longer. His dick throbs and his mouth waters and his claws come forth, and he's across the room and on the kid in an instant. Nero is ready, though. The kid's arm blurs and blazes with light, and Dante's reaching hand is caught like a bug in amber by a great spectral claw. Well, well -- so the kid's demon _is_ awake? Hmm, not quite. Only its arm and a fragment of its essence, apparently, though that's probably been enough to protect him up to now. It isn't anymore, and Dante laughs as he spins and catches the kid in the belly with his other fist. He pulls the blow, of course, because he's not into necrophilia. It's still more than enough to put the kid down, and Nero sags to the floor, curling into a ball and groaning.

Dante picks him up by the ankle and tosses him onto the bed so that he can admire Nero while he undresses. The towel has come off, and without it Nero is long-limbed and lightly muscled, with perfect unblemished skin. Marvelous to see it in the flesh at last, after the torment of watching him online. Nero is smaller than Vergil, with a different and less defined conformation; he hasn't had to fight for his life as much as either of them, and it shows. Dante kneels on the bed and smooths his hands up Nero's legs, over the perfect curves of his ass, and he doesn't even have to fight the demon on peeling the boy apart and going in to lave his cleft with his tongue. Dante's a passenger now, or rather an accomplice; the beast wants to wreck the kid, so Dante offers suggestions and best practices. Like: _Lap at him where he's tightest -- yeah, like that, ooh, see how he stops groaning and opens his eyes wide? Nobody's ever done this to him before. Probe a little, push our tongue into that sweet little ass, feel how the knot starts to open. See how he arches now, his human hand clawing ineffectually at the sheets, his hips jerking up. He likes it and that scares him. His own desire scares him. Let's drown him in it._

_ Yeah,_ the beast purrs back.

(It's the best Dante can do, for now, he knows. Pain and sex were always on the menu for tonight -- but carefully, carefully, Dante can make sure it is bearable pain, and sex rather than rape.

He hopes Nero still likes him when this is done, but if the kid is still alive to hate him, he will be satisfied.)

So he hauls pretty Nero off the bed, and while the boy sits dazed on the floor, Dante catches him by the throat. When Nero is slow to open his mouth, Dante tightens his grip to choke him. Nero gags, mouth opening to gasp for breath, and Dante takes his head in both hands and slides his cock between the boy's lips. It feels so good to fuck Nero's mouth while the kid chokes on it and pushes ineffectually at Dante's hips. Dante helps by periodically shoving himself all the way in and holding the kid's head down so he can't escape; Nero has no choice but to learn how to swallow cock or throw up. When he feels Nero's throat open up, he growls in such pleasure that he has to grab for the wall to keep from falling to his knees. It's just that good.

Through half-lidded eyes he sees Nero recover a little, as the relentless pace eases for a moment. The kid's eyes jerk up in surprise at Dante's growl, and Dante can almost see the realization work its way around in the kid's brain: powerful demon or not, when a man's about to fall down from getting his dick sucked, then the person doing the dick-sucking isn't as powerless as he might initially seem.

Nero's hands abruptly stop pushing at him, and instead curve around his hips. Oh? The kid shuts his eyes, brow furrowing in a way that reminds Dante suddenly of Vergil when he's focused on doing one of his ridiculously precise combat moves. Concentrating. Then Nero starts pulling at him, pulling him deeper, in time with Dante's thrusts. Ohhh. Faster. He wants Dante faster. And now he's really getting into it, tongue stroking, swallowing him down willingly, shivering a little whenever Dante's clawed fingers stroke the back of his neck. Ohhhhh, _yeah_.

Yeah. "I have to fuck you now," Dante explains politely, before yanking himself out of Nero's mouth. The kid lets go of him with a little sound of protest; delicious. Dante drags him up and tosses him onto the bed again. Nero lands in a crouch, breathing hard, twitchy as a cat. "Pick a position," Dante breathes, and then he pushes at the demon until it snarls back at him and finally lets them go over to the nightstand. (He's doing good to still be able to talk, really.) There's lube, which he grabs and squeezes into one hand. The demon doesn't give a shit about Nero's comfort, but Dante has reminded it that lube will feel better for them, too. 

When he turns back, though, Nero has gotten down on his forearms and knees, ass pushed high into the air, and the way he's looking at Dante...

Yeah.

Time gets loose.

That happens whenever he gives in to the demon. It prefers to mark the passage of life by measurements other than time. By Nero's ass, in this case, and the hard staccato sounds of Dante fucking him with such speed and force that the kid has all but collapsed beneath him, hardly able to breathe. Nero's ass is almost unbearably tight; he hasn't done this before, but it's way too late for Dante to rein it in enough to make it good for him. It probably would hurt regardless, this _barrage_ of fucking -- but like a good lesser demon the kid has submitted to it, probably because he can't do anything else. Dante can't, either, and he would tell Nero this if his thoughts had not devolved into savage, unremitting demand, and if his sensory awareness had not narrowed down to the tight heat sheathing his cock, and the delicious sounds and sights of a young unclaimed demon being brutally put in his place. There's no challenge in the kid's scent now, no aggression at all. A little fear, maybe, which the demon loves. A surprising amount of lust, too -- though in the state he's in, Dante honestly doesn't give a shit if the kid's enjoying any of it. 

But something is missing.

Dante growls and pushes him flat and then pins Nero down with the weight of his body. He has to fuck slower in this position, and he can hear Nero gasping for air, feel him flailing feebly to regain some kind of leverage. In his ear, Dante breathes, "Want to be mine?"

Nero inhales, turning to blink back at him through runnels of sweat. "Wh-what?"

Dante shuts his eyes and pushes deep into the boy a few times before he can answer. Nero's ass has loosened up because Dante didn't give him a choice, but only a little, and between the tight grip and the lube, he _needs_ to keep fucking. The demon won't let him stop. Nero whimpers beneath him, and Dante groans and presses his face against the back of the kid's head. His neck is right there. To ease the urge to bite, Dante wraps a hand around his throat from behind, claws pricking the kid's skin. The faint scent of his blood arouses Dante even more, and he can only speak through fangs. "'S what it's gotta be, kid. Mine, and I'll do this to you again and again. Every night until I get bored or one of us dies." He moans with preemptive pleasure at the thought of endlessly fucking this amazing ass, then gets a hold of himself. "Or nothing. Get out of here when I'm done with you. Run, and I might manage not to chase you. What'll it be?"

Nero is silent, though Dante suspects it's shock rather than any real contemplation. He's surprised at himself, too. His demon is a demanding, selfish creature. Why is it giving Nero a choice?

For once, it thinks in full sentences -- and, to Dante's surprise, it sounds oddly sulky. _We want him to want_.

_The hell do you care?_ Dante thinks back.

It snarls and slashes at him, heedless of the damage it might do to its own mind, though he dodges it out of old habit. _We **like** it when he wants. Make him want us_.

Well, well. Dante grins, then leans in to nuzzle Nero's temple. He's not much for seduction, but maybe he can take a page out of Vergil's book. "It's good, yeah? All this fucking. You like it. You _really_ liked it when I fucked you in the throat. God, you suck dick like a vacuum hose, kid."

Nero twitches a little underneath him. Mingled embarrassment and pleasure at the praise prickle through his scent. Dante kisses his ear, then shifts his angle a little, since the demon seems inclined to let him try something new. There: Nero inhales sharply as Dante finds his sweet spot. He pushes Nero's thighs farther apart so he can really get in there, and the kid's scent blooms with fresh delight. But the scent of pleasure has been there, floating between them, for a while now. Token resistance aside, it's clear Nero's been enjoying this pretty much since they started.

"You wanted this." Then Dante blinks as a minor epiphany occurs to him. "You _came here_ for this."

Nero squirms. Dante slides a hand under him and twists a nipple, and the kid arches and groans and loses the thread of the conversation for a moment, then recovers. "Y-yeah."

"Well, what's up with that, huh?" He lets Nero not-answer for a while, riding him steadily now, loving the way the kid can't keep any sort of composure anymore and has started whimpering softly with each thrust. He hasn't touched Nero's dick, but he can feel the way the kid's started shaking, hear the hitch in his breath; he's close. Dante is, too. 

But all at once he jerks free of Nero's body. Nero curses and twists around immediately, opening his mouth to protest. Dante flips him over and shoves his legs apart and works into him again, and that settles him. It probably feels better too, which Dante exploits ruthlessly, rolling his hips and rocking inside the boy until Nero is moaning again, ceaselessly as the pleasure overwhelms him, and they're both on the brink. Now Dante can wrap a hand around his jaw, making him pay attention.

"Stop fighting it," Dante says. There's more of the demon in his voice than there should be. He tells the thing to back off, and it does so with palpable reluctance. Why's it so into this kid? "You know you need this. You need it so much that you _ran_ here from that shitty little island and practically threw your ass onto my dick." Nero tries to turn away, flaring shame, and Dante tightens his grip on the kid's chin and leans down to snarl in his ear. "This was never going to be casual."

Nero has begun to tremble, though with imminent release or some stronger emotion, Dante can't tell. "D-don't _want_ casual."

Oh-ho. Dante presses his face against the side of Nero's face tries to focus. The orgasm has started to build in his guts, tugging at everything from his balls to the back of his tongue, and he shudders, fighting it. He needs to come, God, so bad, but he needs this more. "Then tell me you want me."

Nero laughs, with an edge of hysteria. Tears have run from the corners of his eyes, and Dante can't help leaning in to lick the nearest of them. Salt and bitter and surprisingly sweet. Nero's voice breaks as he speaks. "Fucking yeah, I want you."

_Yessss_, whispers the demon. Dante turns Nero's face away and presses his nose against the side of the boy's neck. So exquisite, he smells, and Dante's mouth waters -- but not yet. Not yet. "I'm gonna, nnh, claim you now," he breathes. He's shaky with need, but he makes himself issue the warning nevertheless. "It's gonna hurt. F-fight me and I'll kill you." He won't be able to help it. The beast will consider it a betrayal. "Don't fight me."

He can't wait for Nero's response. His body is screaming and his demon is roaring and he needs, he needs, he needs. In a flash he has sunk teeth deep into the tendons at the side of Nero's neck. Nero cries out and stiffens, and for a moment Dante thinks the kid has decided to fight. He is sad about this for a fleeting instant -- and to his own shock, he realizes this is _his demon's_ sadness. It doesn't want to kill the kid, which is a miracle all in itself. But then Nero goes pliant. His arms come up around Dante's back, and his clawed hand digs into the muscle there. Beautiful burning pain, and _acceptance_, oh yes, buried two ways in the boy he can feel the moment that Nero's fierce will softens and opens up and _welcomes_ Dante in, all the way, his blood fills Dante's senses and the pain becomes possessive exultation and the delight becomes ecstasy; his, his, this magnificent creature is _his_, at last --

And somewhere amid the frenzy of it all, Nero writhes beneath him and his left hand becomes a claw too and his skin turns to armor and bright spectral wings wrap around them both. When Dante rears up to roar and proclaim himself master of this perfect creature, Nero shouts with him, until his human voice is eclipsed by the unearthly shriek of the demon erupting from his soul.

#

When he asks the kid, after, why he decided to give in, Nero ducks his eyes in that so-fucking-cute way Dante's already falling in love with, shrugs awkwardly, and murmurs, "Because you wanted me."

#

He keeps the kid close for the rest of the night, kissing him, feeding him pizza, _not_ fucking him again even when he shyly asks for it, and making him sleep. The demon insists on this. When Dante questions it, the stupid thing gets pissy. _We did not complain of the human weaklings you used to mount,_ it snaps. _Let us have this, and shut up._

He's never really surprised that his other self is an asshole, too.

Toward dawn, Dante gets up, leaving the kid in bed. Nero is pretty thoroughly permeated with Dante's scent by this point, and that helps, but it still bothers him to leave the kid unattended. That's probably because, once he puts on his pants and heads outside, he's about to see the one person who has a chance of challenging his freshly-minted claim. 

Vergil stands on the front steps of Devil May Cry, hands behind his back, calmly watching the sunrise. Following the letter of Dante's demand that he not come inside. There's no one on the street, no cars moving nearby on the city streets; it's eerily quiet. He glances back as Dante comes to stand beside him, and lifts an eyebrow, nostrils twitching minutely. "Congratulations."

Dante shrugs. "He wanted it."

"Of course he did." Vergil keeps watching him. The wind shifts a little, and abruptly Dante becomes aware of the faint musk of challenge in Vergil's scent. "But I meant congratulations on your new dominant streak. Have you decided to begin the process of becoming a demon lord?"

"Oh, hell, seriously? There's a chance of that now?" Dante sighs. "I don't care about any of that, Verg, you know I don't. I just want Nero, not a fucking kingdom. You gonna give me crap about it?"

"That depends. Will you share him with me?"

The demon rises inside Dante immediately -- and just as immediately, Dante snarls it back. They are Vergil's, after all, by Dante's choice and his demon's acceptance. The demon knows better. It's just insecure. Once the thing subsides within him, still growling resentfully, Dante rubs his face. He hates all this complicated demon nonsense. Life should be simple. "If Nero wants," he answers at last.

Vergil shakes his head. "What _he_ wants should be irrelevant."

The demon shoves him. Dante ignores it, but once again they're of the same mind. "Not to me," he snaps. "Maybe that doesn't make me proper demon lord material, or whatever, I don't know. But if you care about what _I_ want -- and I'm pretty sure you do, despite all _your_ demon lord bullshit -- then that's what I want. The kid gets a choice. That's the only thing I'll fight you on."

Vergil turns to look at him, and Dante braces himself. It's as close to a challenge as Dante ever gets. They stopped trying to kill each other when Dante gave up his pride and offered himself to Vergil. In exchange, Vergil gave up seeking power over the two worlds -- once they killed Mundus between them -- and settled for power over Dante. Since then, it's been good. A constant, delicate dance of love and respect and cruelty and hurt. But there's always been a line in the sand between them, and Dante's as surprised as anyone to find that line drawn here, of all places.

But Vergil does not attack. Instead, he steps close, until they are nearly touching. He leans in. Dante wants to lean in too, nuzzle him, offer himself again, but he holds stiff. He needs an answer. Vergil sighs and says, "Very well. I will... ask, and not demand."

Dante's demon settles with a grumble. Vergil is always as good as his word. Dante, however, stays tense. There is a price to be paid for defiance. And sure enough, Vergil leans closer, kisses the side of his neck ever-so-gently, and then murmurs in his softest lover's voice, "And then I'm going to see if I can _take_ him from you, my Dante."

It's a measure of how fucked up demons are that this threat sends a ripple of pure, skin-shivering pleasure through Dante. Of course it does. It's a mark of respect, that Vergil considers him as much competition as conquest. And yet -- as Vergil intended -- Dante is suddenly afraid, too. Competitions can be lost. Hard-won prizes can be stolen.

Well. No reward without risk. Dante swallows, nods, and says, "His choice."

Vergil's gaze turns pitying. He cups Dante's face. "You'll always have me, brother, don't worry." Then he turns to leave, manifesting great black wings like a swath of shadows. "Dinner tonight? You can introduce us."

Asshole. Dante loves and loathes him. "Sure. Here, pizza, let's say seven."

Vergil sighs. "Always pizza. But very well." 

Then he is gone, a shadow moving across the darkness before dawn. Dante watches him dwindle into the distant sky, trying to decide how he feels... and settling on a single, clear, fierce emotion.

"Bring it, bitch," he growls. Then, grinning to himself, he heads inside to batten down the hatches.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~~I have no idea how to resolve this, la la la~~


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vergil thinks nothing of Nero. That has to change.

Vergil is not particularly interested in voyeurism; nor is he given to subterfuge. Yet when he arrives early to Devil May Cry for dinner that night, something prompts him to slip around the building instead of coming in via the front door. Instinct, perhaps. He is used to heeding it even when he does not understand it. It's also strategically wise to scope out the terrain before he begins punishing Dante for his foolish defiance. The boy is incidental to this -- a small sweet prize which Vergil will nonetheless relish, because he is a demon and demons devour tender morsels. But Dante has been restive lately, more than usual, for no discernible reason. The reason doesn't matter, ultimately; Dante is his, bound and bitten. Something must be done to remind Vergil's little brother of this incontrovertible fact.

So Vergil masks his aura and slips onto a neighboring rooftop, and from a pool of shadow, he watches his brother make love to his son.

They're done, actually -- sweat drying, spent breath mostly caught. Dante's propped himself up above the boy and his hips rest between Nero's spread thighs, but they aren't moving, and his posture is languid. Spent but enjoying the contact, because Dante has always been greedy that way. He's teasing Nero, if Vergil doesn't mistake his grin. Nero, for his part, lies splayed underneath, arms flopped out to the sides and head thrown back, chest heaving a little as he catches his breath. His come is all over their bellies and his throat is red with drying blood where Dante must have renewed his claim during that last coupling. Nero's been in town less than a day; there should have been no need for any renewing, so soon. _Feeling insecure, brother?_ Vergil suppresses a smile.

The smile fades after a moment, however. It is odd to see Dante like this. Vergil has been diligent about keeping Dante in his place, and Dante has been weak enough, all these years, to let Vergil do so. This time, however, Dante is the dominant force in the room, and it is... surprising. The casual command he exudes, when Nero starts to sit up and Dante puts a hand on his collarbones to gently push him back down. The unwavering intensity of his gaze. It is almost as if... but no. It's been barely a day.

Then Nero, unsmiling, never taking his eyes from Dante as he does it, takes Dante's hand and guides it lower on his chest, to rest on his sternum. Over his heart. His gaze is soft as he speaks a few words. Dante blinks down at him for a moment, going still with surprise. He lifts the hand from Nero's chest, and this time strokes Nero's cheek with the tips of his fingers. This touch is long, and lingering. Why does he stare, so? He looks down at Nero, and even across a thousand-foot distance, Vergil can see the slight frown that crosses his brother's face. He lets his fingers fall away from Nero's chin only reluctantly, and then seems bereft when he does.

It is almost as if. Vergil feels a flash of coldness, followed by heat. He turns away from the view, bracing his hand on a crumbling chimney, and tries to understand why he is suddenly, murderously, furious. He fails. He cannot think.

Immediately he returns to the front door of Devil May Cry, enters, and then braces his hands against Dante's desk, trying to master his emotions. The desk is bare of Dante's usual handful of office supplies. The broken stapler, cheap pen he's stolen from somewhere, and half-consumed bottle of whiskey have all been swept to the floor. The wooden surface smells of sweat, come, and a little blood -- some familiar, from Dante, and some strange and alluring. Young healthy male demon, emitting pheromones of invitation and submission and... possession.

He dares. Vergil bares his teeth, and the old wood of Dante's desk groans beneath his tightening fingers. He _dares_.

Noise from the steps. Dante's voice, sounding mildly annoyed. "Why can't you ever be late? Though, sorry if you got an earful. The kid's insatiable."

Nero is a toy. Vergil does not care that Dante has mounted a toy, because that's as foolish as being upset that Dante has ridden a hobby horse. It was always understood that they would devour Nero between them and then discard him -- or so Vergil has thought, until now. Even if Nero is Vergil's son, even though that makes him a scion of the line of Sparda, his beaten-dog desperation and loneliness were palpable even through a porn video stream. He is weak. Both Vergil and Dante prefer more challenging prey... or so Vergil has always thought.

But now._ It is almost as if Dante is falling in love with Nero._

Dante stops by the steps, and Vergil senses his sudden wariness. "What's eating you?"

Vergil takes a deep breath, keeping his gaze on his hands. He is not angry. He is _not_ angry. His fingertips have carved visible runnels into the surface of Dante's desk, but he is not angry. "My apologies, brother," he makes himself say. "I was just... eager to see you."

"Are you." Dante's voice has gone neutral, which is his version of trying to be diplomatic. It never works because Vergil can always hear the unspoken _fuck you_, but generally he indulges it. Right now, however, that neutrality is salt on an abraded wound, as Dante continues. "Well, the pizza's here. Nero's taking a shower upstairs, but once he's done, we can dig in. Normally I wouldn't give a damn, but I figure we can be polite this time and wait for him, since this is our first meeting all in person." As if to demonstrate his politeness, Dante moves over to the couch and flops onto it, propping his big feet on the coffee table.

Once, Dante looked at him the way Nero looks at Dante. Once, his eyes were soft, his smile tender. Once, he accepted Vergil's claim without complaint or resistance, bowing before Vergil as Vergil is due.

"Come here, Dante," Vergil commands.

His voice is soft because anything louder, and he'll growl. It shouldn't matter. He is Dante's lord and Dante is _his,_ and even if Vergil whispers, Dante should obey.

There is a pause, and Vergil senses Dante's sudden wary consternation. "What the hell for?"

Vergil's lips draw back from his teeth. The fury rises so swiftly, eclipsing all else, that he has shoved the desk away so hard that it smashes against the far wall, blurred over to the couch, and snatched Dante off of it, slamming him facedown into the coffee table, before he even realizes he meant to do this. Dante's fine. They've smashed each other into mountains before. But Dante immediately pushes back against Vergil's grip, hard enough that Vergil cannot clamp teeth onto the back of his neck as he _needs_ to do to reestablish his claim, and that is utterly unbearable. "Let _go_," Dante snarls too, and that's _beyond_ unbearable. 

Vergil stands and flings Dante across the room. Dante lands on hands and toes, eyes wide and furious, and Vergil crouches into combat stance, his hand on Yamato's hilt. They're going to fight to the death, right now, because Vergil will not let Dante go, and if Dante will not yield, then --

His demon pings a warning about half a second before Nero smashes into him.

This is not the slouching, frail-looking boy that they ogled online a week ago. Vergil would have sworn at the time that that boy's demon was not awake and might never awaken; he is mostly human, after all. What is on Vergil, however -- slashing, tearing, weaponless apart from what seem to be a thousand curving claws and bared razor teeth -- is a blue-armored demon of pure feral ferocity. Vergil is bowled over by the first blow and before he can counter any of the creature's strikes, it's slashed him across the chest and pinned his arms down with... ghost hands? Hand-wings? And then it rears up, right arm cocked and glowing with demonic power so fierce that it makes the air crackle, and as its yellow, animal eyes fix on Vergil's, he thinks _Dear God, it's Dante's demon all over again_. Dante's demon is nearly tame these days; he and Vergil have spent years bringing the thing to heel, and lately Vergil has even begun to regard it with a kind of wary affection. Nero, though, is nothing but instinct and rage, and strength great enough that Vergil has no choice but to trigger as well. Even then he can't shake off the damned ghost-hand-wings, which _stretch_ to keep up with him. All he can manage is to twist his lower body and fling the boy off, which breaks the ghost-hands' grip at last.

He rolls to his feet at once, snarling through his own fangs. Nero crouches, uttering a blood-chilling hiss, and then the ghost-wings pivot into an attack stance, their wing-claws flexing and ready to rend --

"Nero! Stand down!" Dante.

The boy freezes. There's still little resembling human intelligence in his eyes, but nevertheless he lowers his wings and unclenches his fists -- though he braces his hands on the floor, claws slightly dug into the old wood, clearly ready to lunge for Vergil again at a moment's notice. Dante comes up to him and puts a hand on the boy's long white hair, between the feather-like horns. Then he turns to Vergil, and sighs loudly in annoyance.

Vergil stares at them, letting his demon shape slip away. He keeps his hand on Yamato's hilt, though the brief battle has shaken him out of the terrible madness that all but consumed him a few moments before. He still has to bind Dante again. The need for this is a clench in his heart and a flutter in his belly and a bitter taste in his mouth. Now, however, he can take another deep breath and think, at least a little. "So his demon was awake after all."

Nero has leaned his head against Dante's hip, growl turned into a soft croon of pleasure at the contact. His slit-pupilled eyes track Vergil's every movement, however. Dante smiles down at the boy, ruefully. "Nah, it only woke up this morning. Guess the fucking got a little rough."

"You awakened it with _sex_?" That's... not normal.

Dante chuckles a little, though Vergil hears the edge underneath. He's still furious -- and given how badly Vergil lost control of himself, he cannot entirely blame Dante for that anger. "Maybe that was some of it, but you know a strong-enough need can do it, too. That's the thing with this kid, Verg, which I guess you'd know if you'd bothered to talk to him before you decided to steal him from me. He knows you need power to protect the things you love -- and he loves me, now." Dante shrugs, with matter-of-fact acceptance. Vergil resists the urge to bare his teeth. "So he got stronger. Reminds me a lot of you, really, from back in the day."

Nero jerks away and hisses at Dante. Dante rolls his eyes, but then he turns and crouches as well, so that he can look Nero eye to eye. "Come on back, beautiful," he says, with such tenderness that Vergil has to suppress a growl of resentment. "This is human stuff. The demon's just gonna make everything worse right now."

"He doesn't love you." There's such fury in Nero's face that Vergil's actually surprised to hear him manage speech. He thought the demon was in control -- but no, this is Nero, and Nero is so angry that he's shaking with it, chest heaving with battle-lust. Then Vergil processes what Nero is saying, and flinches. "He just wants to _own_ you. You deserve better than that!"

Dante sighs again, lowering his gaze before a subordinate in a way that Vergil would never have allowed himself to do. "But I love him," he says, softly. Vergil stiffens. "That's been enough, 'til now. It's... starting not to be, anymore. You're not the cause of that, just a symptom of something that's been brewing for a while, and he's probably started picking up on it, which is why he lost his shit a minute ago. I actually think maybe that's why he wanted you here. We're always better when we've got something other than each other to focus on." And as Vergil keeps staring, realizing first that Dante has seen through his plan and second that the need within him has curdled into something strange and startled and awful, Dante smiles in his lopsided way and kisses Nero's forehead. "Let it go, kid. We're demons, so there's always a place for solving problems with our claws, but... we need a different solution right now. Okay? Put it away."

It's a command, and Dante is Nero's lord, but submission in demons is never a thing of simple obedience. Nero hunches a little, bowing his head to signal compliance, but not shifting back to human. "I'm supposed to help you," he grumbles. "That's what this _means_. I'm _yours_."

"Yeah. You are, you gorgeous crazy kid." Dante keeps stroking him -- his hair, one hand, occasional nuzzles to his face. Silent encouragement. And finally, with a soft sigh, Nero slips back into the shape Vergil knew: underfed, stoop-shouldered, sleek and obviously strong, but lacking in pride. Like a beaten dog.

But beaten dogs go two ways, Vergil knows. The ones who don't become cringing, broken-souled cowards instead grow cunning, and far more dangerous than they seem. And as Nero and Dante both stand, and Nero turns Vergil's own cold silver eyes on him, it's immediately clear that Vergil has badly underestimated the boy.

And Dante as well. Vergil makes himself straighten, take a deep breath, and take his hand off the hilt of Yamato. "How long," he says with brittle dignity, "have you been obeying me only to humor me?"

Dante's smile fades. "I never humored you. I've always _wanted_ to be yours." He shakes his head then. The neutral expression is back, but Vergil knows what it really conceals now. Not defiance, but sorrow, and disappointment. "Thought you knew that."

Vergil's demon roils within him, and he forces it to silence, ignoring its clamor to reclaim Dante. It is a terrible thing, to suddenly know oneself unworthy -- but if Dante is getting something from Nero that he lacked from Vergil, that is the only conclusion possible. Worse, it seems that Vergil has _damaged_ Dante, in however small a measure, by trying to tame him. The realization is unexpectedly painful, and disconcerting. How does one resolve such a conflict? The demonic thing to do would be to kill Nero and force Dante to yield again... but Vergil is human enough to understand just how badly that would break everything between them. And he isn't certain he wants Nero dead, anymore, now that the boy has proven himself.

The only solution is to leave. Do what he must to become worthy again. He suspects that's the wrong answer, too; Dante will curse him for it. He can't think of anything better, however.

At Vergil's silence, Dante sighs. Then he claps Nero on the back of the neck, and moves around him to saunter over to Vergil. "Hey," he says. "You're doing it again."

"What," Vergil says absently. He'll go to the demon realm. Technically he is king there, after they slew Mundus. Perhaps if he kills all the pretenders and -- Dante threads one hand into Vergil's hair and puts his head on Vergil's shoulder. Vergil flinches, startled back to the here and now. "What are you doing?"

"Reminding you that I'm still yours, dumbass," Dante says. He speaks with his neck just inches from Vergil's teeth. "'Cause I think you're busy convincing yourself to do the most melodramatic thing possible to fix this. You always do that, you know. Mom dies and you decide to fuse the human and demon worlds. You find out you've got a son, and immediately set out to make him your mortal enemy." Dante nuzzles his ear. Vergil twitches again, caught between competing desires. Dante is his... but Dante deserves better; the boy was right about that. Dante sighs. "And here we're just having a lovers' quarrel, and you're probably about to head off and set yourself up as a new demon king. Aren't you? Don't lie."

Vergil growls in spite of himself. "That you have chosen this _boy_ over me is undeniable, Dante."

"Watch me deny it." Abruptly there are claws in Vergil's hair, pricking him lightly, a goad. "_I_ never said anything about him ending up with one or the other of us; that was all you. Nero came here for us both. I'm down with sharing. You'd like that, too, I think. You're just letting..." Dante shakes his head. "_Vergil-ness_ get in the way. So if you'll just get over yourself, we can get started on next steps."

Vergil ignores the color commentary; Dante will always be an ass. But Dante's scent does not lie, and interlaced with the sorrow and sharper notes of frustration and fading anger are unmistakable desire, and... submission. He still acknowledges Vergil's claim. It's just that this time, he wants more than he's been getting, in exchange.

Vergil lifts his gaze from Dante to Nero. The boy has moved, with utter silence, into a pool of shadow near the door, where he leans against the wall with arms folded. He's not trying to conceal himself, because his eyes are still glowing with lingering anger, silver but gold-flecked. On guard like a proper subordinate, lending his strength to Dante and making sure this goes as it should. More dangerous than he seems -- though willing to contain his dangerousness, for Dante's sake.

As befits a son of Vergil, Vergil supposes.

The need is still present, and still fierce. It even hurts, a little, to be this close to Dante without taking his willing offer. But Vergil will not be a slave to either side of himself -- neither this frustrating humanish ache he feels at the thought of leaving, nor his demon's driving demand to reestablish the old hierarchy. 

Then Dante tugs, very gently. He has turned his head aside, gaze cast down. He is so proud, Vergil's twin, and yet he yields so readily. So confident in his power, so beautiful. Without quite meaning to, Vergil slides hands up Dante's side, over Dante's back. He's breathing harder. His claws catch in the cloth of Dante's shirt. Dante smells like sex and food and a safe lair, and all the other things that have been good in Vergil's life at one time or another. Nero is there, too, fiercely possessive, and... perhaps it is not a scent of threat or rivalry, as Vergil has assumed. Perhaps it is... possibility.

He pulls Dante forward and makes his bite gentle. Enough to break the skin and strengthen the scent-marker, no more. He will _earn_ more, later. For now, he wants Dante to know that he understands how fragile his claim has always been, and that he will no longer take it for granted.

Dante growls and snaps at the edge of his jaw. It's a reflex; Dante's demon repays pain with pain, even when it yields. Vergil does not dodge this as he usually does, instead allowing Dante to draw blood just below his ear. He feels Dante's surprise at this. Then Vergil turns and nuzzles Dante's lips and Dante stiffens a little, because Vergil has not _kissed _him in... months. Years, perhaps. Has it been so long? No wonder Dante has begun to chafe.

Taste of sweet yielding, underneath the remnants of pizza and whiskey and Vergil's own blood. Dante relaxes against him, and purrs a little. By this, Vergil knows himself forgiven. He will not forget.

He lets go of Dante, takes a surreptitious breath to compose himself, and then turns to Nero.

"You and I have business," he says to the boy. Nero's eyes narrow, and he lowers his chin, just a little. That alone is enough to ignite a stir of renewed desire in Vergil. It will be more difficult to court the boy, now that Vergil has offended him -- but that also makes him a more desirable prize, should Vergil succeed. And if Vergil does not miss his guess, Dante will help, now that they're no longer at odds. It must be Nero's choice, but ideal choices can be... encouraged.

And all three of them, together? It will certainly be a worthy and interesting challenge, if they can gain and maintain it.

"Bring it on," Nero says, and Vergil inclines his head to his son. Dante looks from one to the other of them, and chuckles to himself. They begin, again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who've wondered, this is an AU in which Dante and Vergil fought to a draw at the Temen-ni-gru, and Dante offered himself to Vergil if Vergil would agree to share Sparda's power. They killed Mundus together shortly thereafter -- so this is a Vergil who was never humbled as Nelo Angelo, and this is a Dante whose demon didn't spend decades wallowing in Dante's lonely bitter grief afterward, so it's much less monstrous than in my other fics. This Nero, however, has endured plenty of lonely bitterness of his own. His demon in this case is NOT the friendly, silly thing from A Family Affair/Repair. Dante is basically the first person who's ever been kind to Nero, and Nero is as fiercely devoted to him now as he is to Kyrie in canon. Vergil's got his work cut out for him, but I think he can be a charmer when he needs to be.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> La lucha continua. Part 4 is all Nero's perspective, but it got long, so I'm splitting it into multiple parts. Now that Dante and Vergil have settled matters, Vergil switches hunting tactics. Nero continues to resist the inevitable, but for how long?

Ten thousand dollars is a lot of money, unless it's the only money you've got, with no more coming in. And unless you've got no other useful resources -- no friends' couches to crash on, no connections who can hook you up with a gig, no fancy education to at least get you through an entry-level minimum-wage door.

He's got only one real skill, which is camming. He's got Dante -- but Nero does not like being dependent on Dante. Oh, he's fine with _belonging to_ Dante. That should probably bother him more than it does, but in truth, he finds the whole situation oddly comforting. It is so very good to be wanted. But he will not be a _kept boy_, not when he can earn his own way. His pride... well, he doesn't have much of that left, if he is honest with himself. He's had to do too many things he hates, to get by. But what pride he's got won't bear many more wounds, so he nurses it as best he can.

He's surreptitious about it, slipping out in the afternoons while Dante is off devil hunting. He heads to the docks of this new town first, and asks around, and eventually meets the forewoman -- who asks loudly if anybody knows him, then tells him point-blank that he's got to be in good with the local mafia before she can hire him. And though she offers suggestions on how to ingratiate himself with the organization, the whole thing sounds entirely too much like life in Fortuna -- had to be in good with the Order or your life was shit. The world's the same everywhere, he supposes, and trudges off.

He asks around in a few other places, but finds nothing good. Grocery stockboy. Gardener. Nothing that pays enough to live on, in this so-expensive city. When he gets back to Devil May Cry, he goes up on the roof and sits on the edge and tries to talk himself down from quiet despair. It'll be okay. Life could be worse. He's off Fortuna. He's got food in his belly and a place to sleep, for now. He has Dante, and thanks to Dante, he isn't achingly lonely anymore. He could probably have Vergil if he didn't hate the fucker, though Vergil has scrupulously kept his distance in the week since their little scuffle. (Which annoys Nero, because he wants to _fight_ Vergil, even though Vergil and Dante have settled their differences. He wakes in the dead of the night sometimes, panting and twitching with hunger for this fight, and Vergil will not give it to him. Bastard.) But love them or hate them, they are _family_. He has _family_, for the first time ever. And best (worst?) of all, now Nero has his demon, who whispers often in his mind of terrible things... but is otherwise not much worse than any roommate he's ever had. That should also probably creep him out more than it does, but it's sort of nice to know he'll never be alone again.

It's just that it's hard not to second-guess, when he sits still long enough for the doubts to set in. DMC is a safe place, for now. He has money for now. But how long til Dante gets tired of him? How long before Nero ends up again with exactly what he deserves, again, which is nothing?

The demon hisses in his mind, very softly. No words accompany this, but the hiss is enough; Nero realizes he's wallowing. Which is pointless. No one has ever given him anything in life. Every measly belonging he owns, every ounce of self-respect he's got, he's had to fight for. This is no different. If he wants stability, security, he must make these things for himself.

Back to camming on HLD, then, until he can think of something better. And he's going to be fucking amazing at it, now, because he has to be --

\-- and then stops cold as he turns to find Vergil, arms folded, leaning against one of the ventilation units on the roof.

Nero goes still. The itch to fight rises, maddening. However, it cannot be denied that there is something else underneath the aggression -- something that is maybe _causing_ the aggression, now that he thinks about it. When Dante first took Nero, it was as if neither of them could help themselves. Something about Nero's mere presence made Dante violently hungry for sex, and made Nero yearn to be devoured. Maybe that's happening again here? Though obviously not on the same level. Apparently demonic instincts cannot overcome human resentment so easily. Not for lack of trying, though.

Nero hates all of this. He just wants to curl up somewhere with Dante, who is magnificent, and forget about the rest of the world. He wants to feel nothing but contempt for Vergil, who had a prize like Dante all to himself for ages and didn't even try to make him happy. But the truth is that it's probably only a matter of time 'til this detente breaks. Fuck if he's going down _easy_, though, damn it.

Into this welter of emotion, Vergil drawls, "I understand you're looking for a job."

#

It's the first time that Nero's seen proof that his father is rich.

The ten-thousand-dollar tip _was_ kind of a clue. Still, as Vergil leads him to the 65th floor of a downtown skyscraper, through a black-marble-and-glass "showroom floor" that is telling by its spareness of how valuable the few objects on display are, it starts to really sink in. The business has no name on the door, just a number for deliveries. There's a silver-eyed female receptionist at the circular desk up front who sits too still, smiles too placidly, and smells noticeably of demon. Each of the objects on the black plinths, as Vergil leads Nero past, radiate power, even though many of them seem outwardly ordinary. An ugly gauntlet in the shape of a snake's head, resting on a black satin pillow. A scepter of some kind, or maybe a candlestick? Nero can't tell, but it wavers slightly when he looks just to the left or right of it, and he suspects that isn't its only shape. A statue at one of the room which is twice the height of a man, shaped like a terrible angel in the process of drowning a screaming human. Its eyes shift to follow Nero as he walks.

"The arcane goods business is straightforward," Vergil explains as they walk. He doesn't look back to see Nero's gawking, because he's obviously too elegant to be concerned with such paltry things. (He fits this place of gleaming deadliness, because he outshines it and is more deadly. Nero, on the other hand, hunches a little as he walks, keenly conscious of his cheap, shitty clothes, and that one of his shoes has a small hole in the sole.) "We don't haggle. No one buys on credit. The price of each piece is its price; those who can't pay, get nothing."

It's clear that Vergil has found plenty of buyers willing to pay his prices. "Great," Nero mutters, sliding his hands into his pockets and wondering if Vergil's going to ask him to clean the toilets. He's good at toilets. "Where's all this stuff come from?"

"Some of it I buy from hunters, including Dante. Some I acquire myself, if I think the fight might be worth my time. I considered you for acquisitions, actually; you could probably become as good a hunter as Dante, if you were so inclined. But I think you have the potential to be... more interesting. Provided you're willing to work closely with me."

It could mean anything. Nero bristles anyway, though he sets his jaw and resolves to say nothing about his suspicion that this is some back-handed way for Vergil to get in his pants. His mouth has gotten him fired and not-hired too often, and if Vergil is legit, he needs this. Carefully, he says, "Depends on the details, I guess."

"I'm glad you're willing to keep an open mind."

Through a set of lacquered doors is the staff office. It's open-plan, and three people sit at desks on either side of the walk-through area. One is a dark-skinned, pretty-faced young black man with vine-thin eyebrows that almost seem to have a life of their own; another is a handsome muscular Asian guy who really is too perfectly-proportioned to be human; the third is a voluptuous white woman with long black hair that has a greenish cast. All of them wear elegantly tailored suits in charcoal or black, with Vergilian blue touches here and there. They all turn to watch Nero intently as he enters -- and his Devil Bringer itches with the attention, glowing so brightly that everyone can see it even through the sleeve of his threadbare hoodie. Demons, every one. And every one of them is weaker than him, he assesses immediately, with the part of himself that is the demon. When they meet his eyes, he gazes back steadily, until theirs duck away.

_Damn right_, snarls his demon. He resists the urge to bare his teeth in echo of this.

When he looks from Muscle Guy back to Vergil, he finds that Vergil has stopped and turned to watch him. Something Nero's done has pleased him, but Nero can't tell what. Nero scratches at his earlobe and shifts from foot to foot, hopefully in a way that looks nonchalant and not anxious.

"Will you join me in my office?" Vergil asks. "I'll leave the door open."

Okay, that pisses him off. "Don't patronize me," Nero snaps. "It's not like a bunch of demons would bother to stop you, anyway, if -- " 

But that's a step too far. He doesn't like reminding himself that Vergil is as strong and skilled as Dante, given that Nero lasted about thirty seconds once Dante decided it was time to play Hide The Dick In The Nephew. The fact that Nero wanted it in that case was incidental, as is the fact that he doesn't want it in this case. He understands enough about demons to understand that Vergil not only doesn't give a shit about consent, he'll probably get off on it even more if Nero doesn't want him. And sure, Nero's stronger than he was, but Vergil has literal decades more of combat experience, and he is one with his demon in a way that Nero isn't sure he can comprehend -- or counter, if it comes to that. Nero's had a Devil Trigger for a week. Vergil's had his for, oh, thirtyish years.

_We will fight together_, the demon promises, shifting about in his mind with a slithery sound as its scales rub against... something. _We will survive. But do you not want him? So powerful a demon lord, so cruel. It will feel so good, his teeth in us._

Nero grimaces and resolutely does _not_ agree with that thought. But Vergil has begun to smile. 

"Quite true," he drawls. "What keeps you safe from me is my promise to Dante. I just wasn't sure you understood that."

Nero tries to control his expression, but he's not good at shit like that. Nobody ever cared how he felt, before. So Vergil's eyebrows rise as he reads Nero like a book. "Ah," Vergil says. "He didn't tell you."

Fucking _Dante_. "No."

Vergil's smile is so slight. It might be mocking, or kind. Nero hates that he can't tell. "He bargained for your virtue, Nero. I'll do nothing to you that's against your will, or I'll lose him. I think you understand how powerful an incentive that is for me to keep my word -- apart from the simple fact of my own honor."

Oh. Well. Shit. Nero feels himself relax fractionally. It's a mistake to relax, and he knows it. He's known his father for two whole weeks, but already he gets that _deal with the devil_ is an all-too-fitting term for just about any possible interaction one could have with the man. But if he doesn't have to watch his back around Vergil...

He needs a job. With a soft sigh, Nero nods and shuffles and tries to look bored. Vergil inclines his head regally, then turns and leads Nero into his private office.

The office is huge and beautiful, of course. Same aesthetic as the rest of the place: black walls, black marble floors, black glass tops on the modernist furniture. It's softened a little by the plants which artfully decorate the place, although these plants are strange -- a delicate-looking vine with blue-black, heart-shaped leaves dangling down a bookcase; several succulents with leaf edges that look way too sharp to be normal; a small potted tree in one corner that has, instead of leaves, narrow dangling tentacles which look disturbingly... active. The tree also smells, weirdly, like human blood. That's probably not good.

Vergil's desktop is a vast thing, immaculately empty. Behind it is the biggest executive office chair Nero's ever seen. It alone has color, amid the black furnishings: the deep rich brown of shiny, good-quality leather. And at the far end of the room is an odd structure, that Nero thinks at first is meant to be a garden, or maybe a fountain. Maybe a very small stage? Nero dismisses this and focuses as Vergil settles into his chair and crosses his legs. There's a single chair on the other side of his desk, but Nero decides to stand. It's a pointless gesture, but it seems to please Vergil, nevertheless.

"Something of you remembers what you are," he says. When Nero blinks, he steeples his fingers in front of himself. "No matter how the humans treated you, you know you're meant for better."

Nero frowns, wondering what this has to do with anything. "I don't know anything about what I'm 'meant' for. I just know better than to let assholes run my life."

Vergil inclines his head. "Precisely. You undervalue yourself, but you know you're worth _something_, and that some people are beneath you. When I first saw you on that private-chat screen, I thought that you had no pride. That the humans had beaten you down to nothing." His voice grows soft. "Then we seduced you, Dante and I. Once you forgot to be ashamed of your demonic heritage and allowed yourself to revel in it, I saw... potential." 

Nero blushes, embarrassed by both the mention of Horny Little Devils and this bald statement of truth. They did seduce him that night, though, from hundreds of miles away, without ever touching him. He'd never come as hard as he did with Vergil's soft commands in his ears and the sight of Dante's arching, aroused body filling the screen; even now his skin tingles with the memory. That first day at DMC, when he'd slipped into the empty building and all his instincts warned of what would happen when a powerful demon came home to find his lair invaded, Nero had _hoped_ that Dante would give him more such pleasure -- without shame, without judgment, without inhibition. And as Dante had held him down and fucked him until the shackles of Nero's demon-self broke wide open, it had been everything that night on HLD promised. 

_What would it be like with Vergil_? comes the thought, before he can shove it away. Damn demon, always trying to get laid.

Focus. "So what's this job?"

Vergil touches his tongue to his lips for a moment, thoughtful. Nero finds his attention fixing on that tongue-tip, and then he wrenches his gaze away. Vergil's smile is blatantly predatory. But he says, "I enjoyed what you gave us on HLD that night. I'd like to ask you to offer a live version of that show -- here, daily, for the pleasure of my clients."

_"What?"_

Calmly, Vergil gestures at that odd platform behind Nero. It's a pedestal, Nero understands at last, as he turns and finally notices the plush black chair sitting on it. A place where Vergil can display large art pieces, like statues, or... a person. The chair is not so different from the chair he used when he was camming, back on Fortuna.

"My customers," Vergil says, while Nero stares at the chair, "are not honorable people. Honorable people don't want to _buy_ power or beauty, or any of the other things my goods can give them. One who does not earn power, through pain and struggle, will be too weak to hold it when someone stronger comes along, and takes it from them." Nero hears him shrug. "However, if they're foolish enough to become prisoners of their own desire, I'm happy to take advantage. I've found that stoking my customers' desires in other ways whets their appetite for my goods."

It's almost funny. "Oh my God," Nero says, grinning in spite of himself. "You think they'll spend more money if you get them thinking about fucking me?"

"Yes."

And Vergil is so straightforward, so grave about this, that Nero stops smiling. "Shit. You're serious." When Vergil nods, Nero just stares at him. "Fuck. That's..." He doesn't know what it is. "What if I'm not, you know, their type?"

"You will be."

"Uh, no, not everybody's into skinny quarter-demons with selective albinism. Or, you know, dicks."

Vergil shrugs. "No, but all of my customers _are_ into power. And even for the ones who don't find you personally appealing, seeing that I've put my only begotten son naked into a cage makes clear both that there's no limit to what I can do, and that I'm not to be trifled with."

Shit. Nero feels a little stir of something himself at the idea of it, and he tries not to blush. But. "Cage?"

Vergil rises. Maybe there will be a day when Nero doesn't find his every movement blatantly predatory, but today is not that day, as Vergil moves around the desk and strolls toward him. Nero tenses, but Vergil brushes past, and stops before the pedestal. He slips a hand into the inner breast pocket of his coat and pulls out a plain silver ring. It's oddly large, though otherwise unornamented. With this in his hand, Vergil raises a hand before him -- and a shimmering, translucent sheath of energy materializes around the pedestal, floor to ceiling. A shield, made of some kind of magic.

"You'll have control of this," Vergil explains, when Nero comes over to cautiously touch the shield. There's no discomfort when he does so. It's simply like putting his hand on warm, solid, glass. "You can open it whenever you like, though I'll want you to keep it mostly closed. The shield is air-permeable. Not soundproof. The ring stores enough of a charge to last for about twelve hours, but it draws its power from your own demonic energy, so after you expend the existing charge, you'll need to wear it even when you're not working."

He hands the ring to Nero. Nero turns it around, noticing the very faint vibration of it, like a low hum. Barely noticeable, but noticeable. "So they can look, but not touch. Got it." It's not quite camming, but close enough that he thinks he can do this. He can imagine that the eyes upon him are just people watching screens, that their words -- if they speak to him -- are just unusually high-quality voice chat. Then he frowns. "Why's it so big, though? This'll fall right off my fingers."

Vergil's gaze is lidded and unblinking, like a dragon's. "It's not for your fingers."

Oh.

_Oh_.

Vergil has turned to go back to his desk, while Nero stands there staring at the _cock ring_ in his hand. "You'll work four hours a day, six days a week," Vergil says. "Mornings are showroom hours and import logistics; I have client meetings only in the afternoons." He moves behind the desk, opens a drawer, and takes out a sheaf of papers. "This is a contract stipulating my expectations. There is some room for negotiation, though I must hold firm on certain matters."

Nero drags his eyes up from the ring and goes to take the papers. "Like what?" he asks.

"Your performance: I don't care what _degree_ of arousal you display, but you are to show _some_ measure of arousal at all times." Vergil speaks briskly, his tone businesslike. That makes this easier, even though Nero's blushing anyway. "However, you're not to reach orgasm -- not where I or any customer can see, that is. Tension, the _promise_ of fulfillment, is what you'll be selling. They get a tease and nothing more."

Well, the cock ring will come in handy, then. And Dante doesn't exactly leave him wanting, so maybe it's all right if he comes home hot and bothered from a day of work. "Uh, okay."

"Also." Vergil sits down again, folding his hands in his lap. "I realize that your choice to work for me, if you do, will tilt the power dynamics between us even further. To put it bluntly, Dante made it clear you were to have a choice, and I'm concerned that putting you in this position might compromise that choice. I don't want you submitting to me simply because you fear losing a paycheck, after all. Therefore, while you work for me, I won't touch you. Not to pleasure, not to claim. Keep the boundaries nice and clear between this business and our more personal, unfinished, business."

Nero shifts from foot to foot, restlessly. He should be happy about such a stipulation, but there's that hint of patronization in Vergil's words and attitude again, and it makes him angry and reckless. "I can take care of myself. Even against you."

Vergil falls silent for a moment, and something shifts in his gaze. It's subtle, but all at once, Nero stops feeling like a guy negotiating a business arrangement and becomes very, very aware that he is a lesser demon posturing before a demon lord. Vergil's not emitting any particular demonic energy at the moment, or even a scent -- how he's supressed both, Nero can't tell -- but all at once, his very presence feels like waves of energy pushing at Nero, tingling over his skin, making the breath catch in his throat.

"Don't mistake me," Vergil says, very softly. He doesn't sound angry. Just soft. "I want to break you, Nero. All that fragile pride you wrap around yourself; I want to destroy it. The longer you keep me waiting, the deeper my... appetite for you... grows. Using your body and claiming you will be the least of it. By the time I'm done, you will beg me to hurt you, and when I do it, you'll beg me to stop." His voice drops, doubling, deepening into something not-human. "_And I won't_."

Nero stares back at him. He's aware that this is a challenge. That just his failure to look away is exciting Vergil further, pushing him closer to the point where he won't be able to resist his instinctive need to put Nero down. But Nero is also aware that to look away in this moment will be its own kind of provocation -- a signal that he is _willing_ to be put down. He isn't. That he will give in, when Vergil makes his promised demand. He won't.

After a moment, Vergil smiles. It's a bigger smile than he usually gives Nero. Full of teeth, this time. His voice is back to human when he speaks, but Nero can sense Vergil's demon as a churning, volcanic presence just under the surface of him. "And there it is, again. You remind me so much of Dante, sometimes... and I nearly destroyed the world to have him. So let me put my little boundaries in place, Nero. They're necessary, believe me."

His mouth dry, Nero nods. The movement is a little jerky. "Fine."

Vergil inclines his head, graciously. "You should read those over," he says, glancing at the papers in Nero's hand. "The last page has the compensation and employment terms." His eyes shift pointedly toward the chair that Nero has refused to sit in. "There's a lot to consider."

It really is pointless of him to keep standing. With a sigh Nero sits and starts reading through the contract. Nothing seems different from what Vergil has explained verbally already. Then Nero flips to the last page, looks at the number that's written there as a salary -- _salary_, not hourly pay, and benefits too, whoa -- and his mind stutters enough that for a moment, he almost forgets that he sits in the presence of a predator who just described in detail how he means to eventually devour Nero. Then he's done reading, and it's time to make a decision.

He probably shouldn't take this job, with all this... chaos, in his mind. He should figure out what he wants, make a fucking decision about Vergil, one way or the other. At the bare minimum he should take some time to think about this. Talk to Dante, who knows Vergil better than any other living being, and who can warn Nero about what to watch out for.

But. It's just. So much money. He has never been able to dream of stability in his life. Survival, scraping by, but never security, never _luxury_. Wouldn't it be nice to be able to buy all the food he wants? He's always so hungry. He could pay Dante's bills so the lights won't get turned off again. Buy himself some real clothes, and shoes without holes in them. And with money like this, when Dante tires of him, he can be okay, materially at least.

He looks up to find Vergil watching him with preternatural stillness. With a deep breath of preemptive regret, Nero licks his lips and says, "I'll take the job."

Vergil says, still smiling, "I'm delighted to have you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, that's a potted dwarf qliphoth in Vergil's office.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nero's first day at the new job. Working for Vergil is... a challenge.

They cut his hair. Vergil's got an _on-call barber_, what the fuck, and when summoned the man puts Nero in a chair and gives him a trim and a shave and does some other incomprehensible stuff, and when it's all over, Nero looks amazing. Not that different (he thinks sullenly). But even he has to admit that a professional barber's work looks better than an undercut self-administered in a roadside bar bathroom with a knife, which is what he's been wearing up until now. After that, he fills out some paperwork, and then Vergil sends him home.

Dante still isn't back by the time Nero gets to DMC. Nero has his own room now. Dante just laughed when Nero made noises about trying to get his own place, and then he tossed Nero onto the desk and raw-fucked him for an hour while Nero hung on for dear life and sobbed that he was sorry, he would stay, he just didn't want to be a freeloader. But after his shower he crawls into Dante's bed and wriggles into the spot with the strongest scent and wraps his arms around a pillow. It isn't loneliness. He doesn't do lonely. He just really really wishes that Dante would get here. Maybe his eyes water a little. He doesn't do tears, either. There's just dust in them or something. Pizza crust crumbs in the sheets, maybe, since Dante is a fucking slob. Nero will change the sheets in the morning.

Sometime in the night, the bed dips with someone else's weight and Nero comes half awake. The instant he stirs, strong, familiar hands shove him back down with unspoken _hold still_ firmness. So Nero lies pliant while Dante strokes him meditatively and kisses his dick and then licks at his asshole until Nero's moaning and soft and ready, and then Dante spoons up behind him and fucks him. It's slow, neither gentle nor rough. It just _is_, steady and burning yet soothing, and even though he doesn't bother to touch Nero anywhere else and Nero's too half-asleep to think to touch himself, after a while a delicious, satisfying lassitude spreads throughout his body. This is what he left Fortuna for. This, he thinks, is what love should feel like -- warm and reliable, unasked-for, giving you what you need before you know you need it. Stability, understanding, trust. Vergil can't give him any of those things because Vergil is a fucking asshole. Vergil had Dante for years, precious treasure, and took him for granted all that time. If Nero is to have a choice, then Dante is the brother than he wants.

(An orgasm catches him by surprise in the middle of this rumination. He writhes through it, helplessly clutching at the sheets and trying to breathe. Dante's rhythm pauses, rocking inside him steadily, pressing more pleasure out of him until he chokes out "GodIloveyoupleasestop," and then Dante eases off. When Nero has caught his breath and stopped twitching with aftershocks, Dante resumes his careless fucking.)

He falls asleep like that, mid-fuck. When he wakes again, his ass is sore and his thighs are sticky, but he is otherwise incredibly comfortable as the little spoon, and Dante is talking. "Last week you were trying to kill him, and this week you're working for him. If that's not 100% on-brand for our family, I'll eat my coat."

Nero bites his lip. "I won't trust anything he says."

"Too late for that, kid."

"I read through that contract twice. If he keeps his word, he can't touch me! And I _won't_ betray you, no matter what he thinks."

He means this with all his heart, which is why he's surprised to hear Dante let out a long sigh. "It was always supposed to be both of us, kid," he says, very softly in Nero's ear. "We're a set. Order and chaos -- well, chaos and _more, different_ chaos, but whatever. I spent years pretending I didn't need him, then finally realizing I did. You, though, you saw it upfront. You can't betray me with him because we both decided to have you, that night on HLD. You knew that when you decided to come here."

Nero sighs softly and shuts his eyes. He wishes Dante would just sleep. "Yeah."

"What are you so afraid of, then? He'll hurt you, of course, but hey, you like it when it hurts." Nero blushes, turning his face away. Dante nuzzles the back of his head and lets out a little growl that goes right to Nero's dick. If he didn't have work in the morning, he would turn over and ask Dante for more sex. "My demon's nuts over you. The way you _beg_, God, sometimes we come just from the way your voice breaks. We love that you love the monster in us." He lets out a soft sigh. "You want the monster in him, too, I can tell."

Nero sets his jaw. "I don't like the _asshole_ in him, though."

Dante chuckles. "We're all assholes, here, Nero. Runs in the family. So I figure you two should just fight it out or fuck it out, or both, and get it over with. Why not?"

Nero bites his lip. It's a valid question, and Dante deserves an answer. Answering is weirdly hard, though. He is afraid to admit some things. Doing so means opening himself up in a way that's never gone well before with other people. When Dante kicks him out, it will hurt so very much. But he decides to be honest, no matter how much it sets him up to suffer later. 

"I'd do anything for you," Nero blurts. "Before you, it's like... there wasn't any color in the world, and now there is. You're the only person I've ever wanted to fight for; that's why my demon woke up, I think. And you don't need me like that, I know, but... but I'd still give my life to make you happy."

He feels Dante tense in surprise. "Whoa, whoa. I don't want anybody _giving their life_ for me, for any reason. I'm not worth all that." 

_You are_, Nero thinks resentfully. _I know it better than Vergil does_.

As if he has heard this thought, Dante sits up and makes Nero turn onto his back. He nuzzles Nero's jaw, and Nero immediately turns his head to bare his throat. Dante chuckles and kisses right along his jugular, which makes him shudder and groan. But then he speaks against Nero's skin. "So you're scared you're gonna fall in love with him, too, huh?"

It's a mental slap in the face. "No," Nero snaps, immediately. Love Vergil? "Fuck no. Never. Not him."

Dante raises his head and both eyebrows, and Nero can't meet his eyes. After a moment, Dante sighs and shakes his head.

"The way to beat Vergil," he says softly, "is to give him what he wants."

Nero frowns. How does that make sense? "He said he wants to _break_ me, Dante."

"Yeah. But that can mean a lot of things. Not all of them bad."

What. Nero lies there frowning, trying to figure out how _I want to break you_ can possibly be a good thing, until Dante finally flops an arm like stone over Nero's chest. (Nero wriggles, loving the weight and warmth of Dante's arm. Nero is always hungry to be touched. He marvels that Dante is so generous with his casual grabs and manhandling.) 

"Get some rest, dumbass," Dante says, leaning in to sloppily kiss his temple. "You've got work in the morning."

#

In the morning, Nero decides to do a little manscaping. Shaved balls always did get him better tips on HLD, and he wants to be, well, professional? about this. He leaves in place the little trail of dark gray hair between his navel and his cock since Dante likes that, but otherwise he bares all. Then, blushing in spite of himself, he slips on Vergil's cock ring. It's snug enough when he's flaccid that he worries a little about how it will feel when he's hard, but he'll have to cross that bridge when he gets to it.

Nero is just toweling off when Dante calls him downstairs. He finds Dante standing beside a rack of work clothes that has appeared, somehow, in the middle of DMC's foyer.

They're for Nero, obviously, being too small for Dante. Not all of them are business suits, to Nero's surprise; there are lots of nicely-fitted sweaters and shirts and slacks too. Even the suits seem designed to be business-casual as far as Nero can tell, and the placement of shirts and accessories -- there are ties and socks on the rack too -- suggests stylish outfit combinations that Nero never would've considered on his own, but which he can tell will look great. What's stunning is that Nero actually _likes_ most of the clothes. This is the sort of stuff he's always wanted, but never had the money to buy.

"What the hell is this?" he asks. He's fingering one of the nicer blue silk shirts as he does so. His rough skin catches on the fabric, and self-consciously he snatches his hand away before he damages it. He's never owned anything this nice. "I'm supposed to be doing all my work naked, for fuck's sake."

"Yeah, but you can't _walk in_ naked," Dante says. He's flopped down at his desk, watching Nero with amusement. "I think you're hot even with that whole 'schlubby chic' thing you got going on, kid, but you know Verge is _particular_ about how things look around his fancy office digs."

Nero is a little chagrined to realize he hadn't considered that before. Then he gets to the far end of the rack, which holds underclothes. Nero blushes violently, but this makes sense too; his own underwear is worn and practical, and he might need to do stripteases or something while he's in the cage. The boxers and pouched shorts are okay. The spank-me straps and chain-link thongs, well...

"I can't pay him back for this," Nero says. That's not really the core of what's bothering him, but it's part of it. He doesn't like that Vergil has decided Nero needs help preparing for professional life, even if it's true that he does. He doesn't want to owe Vergil anything.

"Oh, trust me, kid, he'll be getting his out of this whole business. He always does. Also, he's got more money than God, don't worry about it."

"He ever send you clothes?"

"What do I need fancy clothes for? They'd just get covered in demon guts. Also, c'mon, _look_ at me." Dante grins and spreads his hands. He's ridiculous, but there's truth here: no need to accessorize a body so perfectly built and handsome. Nero, though, is skinny and slouchy and... He bites his lip and looks down at his right arm. The arm is proof that Vergil is his father, but none of Vergil's own demon heritage shows outwardly, unless he wants it to. Maybe he doesn't want clients to see how flawed his son is.

But belatedly, Nero notices that the shirt he's been admiring has no right sleeve below the elbow. What's there has been hemmed and cuffed artfully, in a way that will show off Nero's arm rather than simply accommodating it. Which is... He's not sure what it is.

His demon stirs. _A fine courtship gift, meant to accentuate your beauty._

Nero frowns. _He's not **courting** me. Demons don't do shit like that. And anyway, I'm not beautiful._

The demon doesn't reply, but Nero feels a faint whiff of exasperation from it before it curls back into sleep.

Nero decides to wear the pretty silk shirt another day, opting for the most formal of the suits instead for his first day of work. It doesn't quite look like him, he thinks as he studies himself in the mirror afterward. The young man who gazes back is lean, but strong; somehow the clothes emphasize this. The suit is a lighter-than-usual gray, and matches his eyes. He looks leggy and stylish and relaxed. It's weird, but nice.

Then it's time to head off to work.

He gets there half an hour early, determined to make a good first impression. Biallis, the silver-eyed demon receptionist, smiles and looks him up and down as he comes in, in a way that makes Nero feel intensely self-conscious -- but there is definite approval in her gaze. "Lord Vergil's client hours don't begin for some time," she explains. "But I'm sure he wouldn't mind if you, Lord Nero, were let into his office early."

Lord Nero. He's not ever going to get used to that, even if it is a proper acknowledgement of his rank in these demons' eyes. "I guess I could do that."

So she leads him into the office and shuts the door behind him. Nero fidgets for a moment, looking around; something's different about this place, compared to yesterday. Maybe it's just that the office isn't as intimidating without its dark master's presence? Hard to say. He decides to go ahead and get set up. There's a small closet next to the pedestal, so he undresses with great care for the nice clothes, hanging each piece and folding the underwear and socks. When he takes his place on the pedestal, it immediately feels wrong. Too open, not enough like the security of camming, which he's always done in his own bedroom before. He feels like he's on a fucking stage. He feels like he's made a mistake.

Then it occurs to him to activate the cage-shield-cockring. He feels like an idiot putting his hands up and willing the thing into existence -- but as soon as he does, he feels much better. The office is Vergil's territory, but here within this small space, it doesn't feel like Vergil at all. Here, Nero can sit down in the chair that's so much like his chair back in Fortuna, and take himself in hand. He can shut his eyes, and take a deep breath, and put himself into that mental space which is halfway between the intense self-absorption of masturbation and the hyperawareness that others are, or might be, watching.

It's so quiet in the room. He likes that. That helps remind him that this _isn't_ Fortuna, where the omnipresent sound of the sea could always be heard, even with the windows closed. He is a thousand miles away from that shithole, starting a new and better life. Here, he has money and family, and now a job. Here, he is respected, for his strength if nothing else. Here, he has Dante --

(He shivers. Any thought of Dante is erotic, even when he isn't already jerking himself off. And there's something about the cockring that heightens this fleeting sensation, sending a quick vibrating thrill along his nerves. He bites his bottom lip and stretches one leg out, relaxing further.)

\-- and here, he has had more amazing sex in a week than in the whole previous ten years. It isn't a thing he ever expected to enjoy, the kind of brutal, jarring sex that Dante inflicts on him. The pain --

(He's got his human hand working his cock. At this thought, however, he shudders still more and puts his demon hand on his belly, extending his claws a little until they prick the skin. It hurts. He inhales at the sensation.)

\-- is stunning, sometimes, and he's fully aware that he probably wouldn't be able to enjoy it if he was completely human. But because he heals in seconds, he can like the way Dante tears at him and bites him and jerks him about like a doll. And, God, when Dante is inside him and really gets going, it's like being fucked by an engine piston. Sometimes he thinks he's going to die of it, and what a death that would be. 

And here, in addition to Dante, there is another mighty demon who wants him --

(_Scent_. That's what's different. Yesterday, Vergil was doing something to suppress his scent and demonic presence. Today, though, that scent is very noticeable, even here in this shielded space that Nero has claimed as his own. Nero's still not good at sifting information from scents; he's only had an awake, aware inner demon for a week. But some things are obvious. He breathes in and his lungs tremble with _adult demon in his prime, male, healthy, powerful, dominant, master of this space_. It makes his dick harder. It makes him arch back in the chair, breathing faster, his human hand quickening in its movements.)

\-- a _demon lord_, who _wants him_ \--

(He bites his lip and tastes blood. He curves his claws more and feels blood run down his belly. He smells his own blood and thinks, _Would Vergil like the taste?_ and his balls tighten and fuck, fuck, he's so _close_, he's going to

"Now, now," Vergil says. Right there.

Wrenched back to reality, Nero gasps and sits up. Vergil stands just outside the shield, watching him with amusement.

"Remember our contract," Vergil says. His voice is velvet, and in spite of himself, Nero's cock twitches in helpless response. "The tease, not the fulfillment."

Fuck. His balls are tight as rope knots. With a frustrated groan, Nero lets go of his dick and sits up. He's drenched with sweat, shaking and trying not to let Vergil see that he is. "Didn't hear you come in," he manages to say. "Sorry."

"It's fine. I wish I had a client with me. You're a lovely sight, like this." His eyes don't blink as he stares at Nero, and Nero feels the movement of his gaze as a caress. "What were you thinking about, to stir yourself so much?"

_Please open me up and make me scream, right fucking now_.

Shit. Shit. No. Nero jerks a little, shoving the thought out of his mind as hard as he can.

"Eh, just," he says, shrugging, "you know. Sex stuff."

"I see." Vergil's gaze has stopped on the lines of blood that have run down Nero's belly. Nero wants to wipe them away. He wants to leave them where they are, throw himself on the floor, and invite Vergil to lick them off. He wants --

Fuck.

"Well," Vergil says, after a moment. "Do keep going; I have a client due shortly. But remember the terms of the contract. They're quite specific on the matter."

Vergil turns away then, and heads toward his desk. Nero sighs, rubs a hand over his hair to try and bring himself back to business, and takes his flagging, aching cock back in hand for a now-and-again maintenance stroke. Fucking hell. The blue balls are going to be epic.

He's calmed down a little by the time Vergil's clients start to arrive. The first is a redhaired human woman, older and pretty in a severe way, wearing a business suit that fits her to the nines. Her whole manner screams CEO. She pauses at the sight of Nero, her eyebrows rising, but then moves on to Vergil's desk, where they sit down to discuss some kind of item she's apparently thinking about buying. She keeps glancing at Nero, however, whenever Vergil pauses the conversation to pull up information on the touchscreen embedded in his desk. He doesn't think he's her type; she doesn't look at his cock at all, and her scrutiny feels less sexual than something else. Then Nero recalls what Vergil has told him: people who buy his items are hungry for something other than mere sex. That helps him see that what intrigues the woman so much is simply his presence -- his comfort with nudity, his obvious arousal, his apparent vulnerability. The implicit power of what Vergil has done in putting someone who is visibly related to him on display like this. Whatever it is, it keeps her distracted. When Vergil asks what price the woman thinks the item is worth, she says something. Vergil says something back, which is more than double her offer. It's outrageous -- and even though Vergil has said that he does not tolerate haggling, the woman should at least protest, Nero feels. It doesn't matter if she's buying the Koh-i-Noor. Any sane person would protest that price.

But she agrees. Demurely, immediately, without even seeming upset. She's not a timid woman, and she cannot be foolish with money if she's gotten this far in life. But she agrees. And then she glances at Nero again, while Vergil draws up the bill of sale.

When she's gone, Vergil stands at the door of his office, gazing after her. He's smiling. "You see?" he says to Nero.

"Yeah," Nero says, amazed. "I guess it really is hard to focus when there's a guy jerking off in the room."

Vergil throws him a look of mild disdain. "If it were merely _that_, I would have hired any attractive person." He sighs and runs a hand over his hair, brushing it back with careless perfection. "Ah, the humans truly worked you over, didn't they? I suppose they started when you were young and weak. I've scorned Dante for his attachment to certain humans all these years; they're all such... nothing. But I see now that he found a few gems amid the manure. _You_, meanwhile, found only filth. I suppose it cannot be helped." Shaking his head, he turns and walks back to his desk.

What the hell is that supposed to mean? Nero stares at Vergil's back, confused and trying to figure out if he should be angry and... seriously, what was that? Is he fucking with Nero? Just spouting cryptic nonsense?

Dick. Nero sets his jaw and focuses on himself again. He's got work to do.

The rest of the day is uneventful. Vergil has only one other client: a tall, impeccably-dressed man in a three-piece suit... with a dog's head. He is a demon, of course, of moderate power; even the office receptionist is stronger. Nevertheless they are polite to him as Vergil leads him inside. The demon greets Vergil amiably, but with palpable respect; Vergil responds with detached, empty friendliness. The demon has commissioned something, which one of Vergil's male staff demons brings into the office after a few minutes: all Nero can see is that it's a small locked box. They've apparently already settled the price, so money changes hands, the demon inclines its head in a symbolic bow, and then rises to leave. He stops by Nero's cage, however. At that moment Nero is on his feet, leaning languidly against the back wall of the little alcove with his demon arm positioned over his head, the claws sunk into the black stone of the wall. His dick has finally subsided into grudging half-erection, but he's still opted not to inflame himself further that way; he is toying with one nipple, which he continues to do as the demon's nearness makes his Devil Trigger begin to glow.

"How _magnificent_," the demon says. He smiles -- well, his tongue lolls out, like a dog's, but close enough -- when Nero raises eyebrows in surprise at his open admiration. "Such power, and the glory of his soul literally shines upon him, Lord Vergil, even through the human veneer. One of your offspring?"

"Yes," Vergil says, coming over to join Dogface. He's smiling, and... proud? Well, look who's feeling fatherly. "He's only now coming into his true power. My brother and I have made a project of him, however, and soon -- very soon, I think -- he will be a proper Sparda."

Oh, will he now? Nero manages not to roll his eyes.

"We shall all of us be fortunate to witness his ascension," Dogface says, in a tone of reverence. Then, to Nero's surprise, he says to Nero, "Your human skin is most finely-formed, young man. Thank you for permitting me to gaze upon you for these past few moments."

What. Nero blinks, then half-smiles, unable to help himself. Well, well, Dogface likes what he sees. Nero lowers his demon hand, brushing clawed fingers over his lips. "Thanks," he says, with a wink. Dogface's soft inhalation -- and softer growl of appreciation -- is nice. Then Dogface ducks his head at Nero, bows more deeply to Vergil, and exits.

Vergil watches Dogface leave, and then he shuts the office door. "You're done for the day," he says, and Nero blinks up at the clock. Sure enough, it's time to go home. Time flies when you're having fun. But there is something about the way Vergil stands, too still, that catches Nero's attention. 

"Something wrong?" he asks.

Vergil stands in profile, his gaze lowered. "Please don't flirt with the clients," he says. "I realize now that I neglected to add that to your contract, but it's essential. Killing the competition is bad for business, when they're also my customers."

"Killing the..." Nero frowns. "The _competition_?"

Vergil turns to smile at him. His eyes are chips of blue diamond in his face, hellishly aglow from within. "We acknowledge Dante's mark upon you," he says, in two voices, both of which make Nero's skin come over goosebumps. "But we will permit no others. Until the matter of claim is settled between you and me, my demon will... object... to the presence of any rivals for your favor. Strenuously."

Oh, hell. Vergil is apparently on the brink of chasing down Dogface and ripping him limb from limb. "No flirting," Nero says quickly. He likes Dogface. "Got it. Seriously, that guy wasn't my type at all. It's just an old habit from camming."

That works. Vergil's eyes stop glowing, and he lets out a soft breath. Relief? Amusement? He's so fucking hard to read. "I'm pleased you understand."

He turns away, heading back to sit at his desk, and apparently becomes engrossed in work, again. Nero lets down the shield, opens the closet, and starts to get dressed, but as he does so, his mind is churning. All this time, the whole day, Vergil's demon has been right there beneath the surface of him. Had to be; it rose too quickly in response to a perceived threat. And the threat that it perceived was a _rival_. For _Nero_.

Courtship, Nero's own demon said. Huh. While he's dressing, Nero can't help looking at Vergil. He tries to be surreptitious about it, but after a moment, without looking up, Vergil says, "What."

Shit. "I just don't get it," Nero says. "Why would you offer me this job? If you want people to think about fucking me, but then you want to _kill_ them because they're thinking about fucking me..."

Vergil keeps working. "Demonic instincts aren't always logical. Provided that you adhere to the stipulations of our contract, however -- and refrain from flirting -- there shouldn't be a problem."

And that's that, apparently, for him. A simple behavioral equation. Because demons don't do jealousy -- or love, or any other emotions. They're just smart animals, marking territory and claiming mates out of greed. Nero's got to remember that.

He manages the cufflinks of his left sleeve, awkwardly. The demon hand doesn't do fine motor work easily, or at least not without shattering tiny delicate human jewelry. "So what'd that guy want? Uh, the demon guy?" _Dogface_ seems a little rude, in retrospect.

"I don't intend to discuss most of my clients with you." Then Vergil pauses, not looking up. "But since I suspect you've been poorly-educated in the matter of your demonic heritage, I'll share, this once: Mr. Nubis sought a talisman that would help to strengthen his human guise. Apparently he is intrigued by a young human man, and wants to share company with him safely."

Whoa. "Wait, he's trying to fool some human into fucking a demon? That's... God, if he loses control -- "

"He won't. That's the whole point of the talisman. And apparently he loves the boy." Vergil sighs and resumes work, sounding bored. "I imagine the human knows precisely what he is. It's harder to hide than you seem to realize, particularly if nearby humans are even slightly psychically sensitive. The prey in them always knows the predator in us." He glances up at Nero. "People in Fortuna always knew what you were, after all."

And they never let him forget it. "Yeah," Nero says, pushing aside the old bitterness. Fuck Fortuna. "The human _knows_, though? And still wants to fuck a demon? That's crazy."

"A few are stronger or braver than the rest, and many seem to find a certain attraction in danger. Our mother certainly knew she was welcoming a high-order demon into her bed -- the second time if not the first, and they were married for years. What Mr. Nubis wants is simply a variant on the magic that Father used for her. It allows a demon to... relax, when with a human lover. Firms up the human mask. Less risk then of suddenly sprouting incompatible appendages, and so on." Vergil shrugs as if he's not talking about a horror movie, and scrolls something on his screen.

Nero finally gets the cufflink done. That's it, no more suits after today. He starts on the tie. But he can't stop thinking about what Vergil's told him. "I... didn't think demons were capable of love."

"Capable of, certainly. _Controlled by_, no. It's a choice that some make." And such a choice is completely beneath him, Vergil's tone says.

Nero can't get the fucking tie knot right. There was a YouTube video that showed him how to do it, and he's clearly misremembered something. With an exasperated sigh, Nero undoes it and starts over. But as he does, he finds himself watching Vergil. Is that tension in Vergil's shoulders? He hides his emotions so well. His scent, too, is almost imperceptible here in the office... but the whiff of aggression-musk is there, though Nubis has been gone for a while. And underneath that, Nero can finally sift out something low and rich and... is that arousal? God, it is. 

...aaaaand Nero's flubbed the knot again. Fuck. He unknots it and starts over. Then he jumps, because Vergil is suddenly right there in front of him, sighing in mild exasperation.

"You should have Dante teach you how to do this for yourself," he says to Nero, before brushing Nero's hands out of the way and beginning to work on the loops of the knot.

Nero's so shocked that he's actually honest. "Dante? The guy who barely wears a shirt?"

"We were raised as nobility, until the demons came," Vergil says. Nero finds himself obliquely fascinated with the tie-tying, unable to look away. "He pretends otherwise because he's an ass, but his manners are as well-trained as mine. Scratch his rough surface and there is a prince of Hell underneath."

It sounds like bullshit. Dante, nobility. He can see it with Vergil, sure, but none of that elegance or grace seems to have come to Nero with the DNA. 

_You undervalue yourself_, Vergil said the day before.

It's quiet in the office, during the moments that it takes Vergil to make Nero presentable. Vergil radiates warmth, which is weird and ironic for such a cold man. His hands are deft, quick, and gentle as he works. (_Gentle_ is not a word Nero ever expected to think in conjunction with _Vergil_.) Stranger still, Vergil smells of many things. A forest? Something like fir trees and cedarwood. And blood, of course, but the combination isn't unpleasant at all. Without thinking about it, Nero finds himself leaning a little closer, breathing a little deeper, starting to wonder what those hands might be like on his --

Vergil's eyes flick up to his face. Shit. What the hell is he doing? Nero makes himself lean back, and hates that he's blushing.

"There." Vergil finishes the tie. His eyes narrow, assessing. "And stand up straight. You're supposed to wear the suit, not the other way around."

Nero grimaces, but obeys. It feels strange to push his shoulders back and lift his head. In the orphanage, the other kids and the caregivers always accused him of putting on airs. But when Vergil nods in approval, a rush of pleasure flows through Nero. Fuck. He doesn't like that some part of him wants to please this man.

_Give him what he wants_, Dante said. The way to beat him. Vergil turns away and Nero stares after him and helplessly admires the smooth economy of his movements and the subtle predatory air he exudes, and his resolve wavers. Why wouldn't it? What Vergil wants is Nero. And it can no longer be denied that Nero wants him back. It's not even that his damn demon thinks a demon lord is a great catch. Apparently some humans have _a certain attraction to danger_. This is all on him.

But. Nero frowns, thinking. What Vergil wants isn't _just_ to fuck Nero, is it? He wouldn't have done this -- hired Nero, made him do _this_ of all jobs -- if that was it. He wants something more. Submission, probably. For Nero to bow before him, obey him in all things, and like it. Fuck that.

Vergil eyes him with amusement as he sits again. "Have you finished staring at me?" he asks. "Or would you prefer to do that some more?"

Fucking _asshole_. Nero sets his jaw. "No. Sorry. Good night."

#

Dante's dead asleep when Nero gets home, sprawled half-naked in bed and snoring loudly. That's not good, because he's hard to wake when he's like this, and Nero needs him. Nero sits in Dante's room for a while, hoping the hunger in his scent will wake him, but Dante slumbers on. Frustrated, Nero undresses and creeps onto the bed, shaking because Dante is _right here_ and he smells so good and Nero can't think. Would it be wrong to touch him in his sleep? Yes. Never mind human morality; it's not his place. But he needs sex and Dante won't wake up and fuck he's going crazy.

He moves to straddle Dante. "Please, please, please," he murmurs. Dante doesn't move. "Please, Dante. Please."

Something stirs, though it isn't exactly Dante. Dante's mouth stretches into an open, toothy grin. "Pretty," says the demon's voice, the rumble of it shaking the whole bed. "_My_ pretty. You want?"

Nero flattens himself and rubs against Dante, shamelessly, helplessly. "Please," he says again into Dante's ear. His cock presses against Dante's, and he is grateful to notice the latter showing signs of interest. "You don't even have to do anything. Please just let me."

The demon rumble-purrs, and to Nero's endless gratitude, it moves one of Dante's hands to unfasten his pants. "Always for you."

Nero's in the middle of feverishly impaling himself on Dante's cock, working his own with his demon hand, when Dante stirs again and big warm hands settle around his hips. "Well, well," Dante -- actually Dante -- says, sounding amused. "Guess I'd better thank Vergil for this, huh?" Then he rolls over, levers Nero's legs apart for better access, and fucks Nero while Nero howls for more and claws at him and generally just loses his fucking mind.

When it's done and both of them lie licking their wounds -- Nero's really done a number on Dante's back, and he'd be sorry about it if Dante hadn't damn near given him a concussion in return -- Dante flops onto his back and pulls Nero into the crook of his arm. "So, day one of work and you're like this? Kid, I'd put bets on whether you'll make it to day three, but the over/under's too much of a gimme."

There's really nothing Nero can say to this. Dante's right. But all he's got left is his pride, so he rolls over and buries his face in Dante's chest. Dante laughs and shakes his head, but it's good-natured, and he is kind enough that he doesn't tease Nero further. That's precisely why Nero loves him so much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has gotten *huge.* I'm done with the last chapter, just gotta edit it, but it's so damn big that I figured I'd go ahead and post this SIX THOUSAND WORD chunk and let folks get started.
> 
> "What if he's a cam boy" yeah that'll be a nice quickie fic grumble grumble right sure goddamn it.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everybody finally figures out what everybody else wants.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW for unwanted sexual proposition and reference to past sexual harassment.

Day two is quieter than the first day. Nero gets more comfortable performing, and Vergil's clients stare at him and then pay Vergil stunning sums of money, to the degree that Nero finally realizes Vergil's making a lot more from Nero's presence than he's spending to keep Nero on the payroll. Well, guess that's why he's the rich guy in the family.

The only problem comes near the end of the day, when an older male human comes in. One whiff and Nero flinches in his cage, immediately faltering in his self-caresses; he knows the smell of Fortuna, and he knows that mark on the old man's cloak. The Order of the Sword. What the fuck. But Vergil greets the man politely, and glances up at Nero over the man's shoulder. Impossible not to read the message there: _Deal with it._ Fine. Asshole. It's hard to tune out that smell he hates so much, but he can be _professional_ and pretend a sensuality he doesn't feel.

The man and Vergil talk amicably, and then the man hands over something in a large rectangular case which is emblazoned with the Order's symbol. The thing is heavy enough that the human grunts and can barely lift it, though of course Vergil takes it with one hand and sets it aside as if it weighs nothing. Then as Vergil rises to ask Biallis, the receptionist, to bring water for his guest, the old man turns to eye Nero. Nero keeps his expression bland and pantomimes jerking off, without actually bothering to do it. _Fuck off, you shit_.

The old man looks amused -- but his gaze is oddly intent as he examines Nero. He looks away as Vergil returns, but when their business is done and he's on his way out, he pauses by Nero's cage. His gaze roams greedily over Nero's body, but it stops, and lingers, on his arm.

"I remember you," he says after a moment, sounding surprised. "The little demonspawn."

Nero decides not to say anything back, mostly because he can't trust himself to keep it civil. But he remembers the old man, too. Brother Verret, one of the Order priests who censured Nero after Nero beat the shit out of Brother Tillaret for groping him when Nero was fifteen. They would welcome Nero back into the Order, this man told him once, if Nero would apologize to Tillaret and admit that he allowed his unnatural demonic temper to get the better of him. Nero quit the church instead. So he smiles now, as smugly as he can, then flops back in the chair with one leg up, deliberately cupping his genitalia in the man's direction.

Brother Verret chuckles, getting the message loud and clear. He licks his lips, though; yeah, that's about what Nero figured. Lots of pervs in the Order leadership. His gaze keeps drifting over Nero's arm, however. "Fascinating," he says. Belatedly Nero realizes Verret's never seen the arm. Back in those days, Nero kept it in a sling to hide it. It makes his scales itch for Verret to look at it now, and Verret smiles, as if he senses this. "You're quite powerful, aren't you? How did we let you get away?"

"I would imagine," Vergil says, and they both jump because he is right there behind Verret, the leopard resolving out of shadows that once seemed safe, "that no one in the Order had the discernment to see his worth while he was under your control. Alas. He's not, anymore."

It's Vergil's usual detached tone, and his expression hasn't so much as twitched, but Nero tenses immediately, because even an oblivious human should be able to sense the sudden hovering, pent stillness in the room. Vergil is not pleased by the turn the conversation has taken. Vergil displeased is Vergil turning (more) dangerous, and Nero's astounded that Verret hasn't noticed.

But maybe the problem is simply that Verret can't fathom why anyone as elegant as Vergil would give a damn about some worthless foundling -- especially seeing as Vergil has put that foundling on display in a cage. "A true shame," Verret says then, focusing on Nero again. He lifts a hand to touch the shield; Nero's skin crawls. "I'll have to let Brother Tillaret know that he was right about you, though. What a perfect little slut you are."

It's a broadside. Nero knows he should've been ready for it. Men like this always know how to use shame as a weapon. And under other, better circumstances, Nero would react in other, better ways -- a vulgar insult, a clever clapback, a cold stare. Something to let Verret know that Nero is unbothered, and that Verret is the low, grotesque creature here. Instead, because Nero _is_ ashamed, and because he is old enough now to know that Brother Tillaret was in the wrong but that in no way changes the fact that the scars of childhood run deep... he goes stiff, his breath catching and his throat tightening with old, festering hurt. Verret sees, and grins.

"How much for an hour or so with him?" Verret asks Vergil. Vergil has moved past him and is removing his coat for some reason, though Nero is too upset to consider why. Vergil opens the little closet next to Nero's alcove and puts the coat on a shelf inside, as Verret opens his wallet. "I imagine you've created this little display in order to show his assets to the fullest, and it's working, it's working! He's marvelous." Verret shakes his head and chuckles to himself. "My, I haven't _paid for_ a young man in years, but it should be lovely to -- "

Abruptly, the magical shield around Nero changes color. 

Nero blinks in surprise as it shimmers before him. Normally the shield is translucent, faintly blue, but all of a sudden it's a weird, completely opaque, magenta. "The fuck?" Nero murmurs. Silence from beyond the shield. Has it stopped allowing sound through, too?

Then he smells blood.

A _lot_ of blood. Human. Extremely fresh.

He stares at the shield. Instinct figures it out before his conscious mind, mostly because his conscious mind just doesn't want to believe what it's seeing. But after a moment it's clear, finally, that the shield hasn't changed colors; it's still blue. Just... covered in red.

With nerveless fingers, Nero deactivates the shield. A curtain of red drops to the ground at once, in a wet splash that sprinkles his legs and feet. He doesn't mind. He can't even think about it, really, amid shock as he looks around.

Vergil's office is red, now. The black leather chair? Red. The black glass desk? Red. The walls? Red, except where Nero's shield occluded them. 

And Vergil, suddenly at the center of the room with his back to Nero, jacketless, his bare shoulders heaving slowly? Is _covered_ in red. His white hair has been flattened to his face by it. It drips from his visible, slowly-flexing hand, and from the tip of Yamato's scabbard. There's no sign of Brother Verret... or rather, Nero's pretty sure that Brother Verret is, uh, _around_, if not exactly present.

The office door cracks open; it's Biallis. She pokes her head in, glances around the room, and sighs. "Oh, sir."

"My apologies for the extra trouble, Biallis," Vergil says. Perfectly normal voice. This isn't his demon's doing. Right now, Vergil is all his own monster. "It was unavoidable."

She nods. "Would you prefer arcanic-level cleaning this time, sir, or just the ordinary crew?"

"Ordinary cleaning should be sufficient; it's just a human." He pauses. "Send word to the Order of Verret's death -- no apology, just a polite notification -- and be certain that the payment I gave him is transferred to their accounts. That should silence any protests on their parts. I'd hate to have to wipe them out again."

"I live to serve you, my lord," she says. Nero keeps staring at the room. There are no... pieces. The room stinks of not just blood but bone and offal and burnt hair, but all of it's been _vaporized_. They're all breathing Brother Verret. Nero feels a little queasy at this thought, even as his demon rumbles in satisfaction.

_He repays the insult to us_, it hisses in his mind. 

_I can defend myself,_ Nero thinks back, but there's no heat to this thought. He's too shocked by what he's seeing. Yamato is a sword, not a goddamn Howitzer. How the fuck did Vergil do this?

_He courts us with blood, as is our due_. The demon croons, hungrily. _We should reward him._

_I'm not sure that's... safe_, Nero replies.

Meanwhile, Biallis has taken out a phone and sent a quick text. She enters the room -- floating, Nero sees, just an inch or two above the ground. Handy trick, if she doesn't want to get blood on her pretty high heels. She edges closer to Vergil, just into his peripheral vision. Cautiously, Nero notes. "Ah, you remembered to take off your coat this time; very good, sir. Embroidery is so hard to clean. I'll have more pants and boots brought. And of course the vest is washable." She tilts her head to one side, her manner suddenly coy. "Would you like to take the pants off now, or later?"

Nero blinks. What?

Vergil takes a very deep breath, then turns to Nero. Nero shouldn't really be surprised that Vergil's eyes are blue stars amid the red of his face, or that the craving for further blood and violence still gleams palpably amid the blue. But then Vergil licks his lips -- and instead of nausea at the sight, Nero feels... something else. The opposite of nausea. It occurs to Nero suddenly that the blood might stink, but it also smells... good. There is a roil in his belly, and his mouth waters, and very abruptly Nero finds himself staring at Vergil's lips. There's still some blood there that he hasn't licked off.

The demon stirs again, its voice soft and sly. _Power in human blood, for demons. Go to him. Taaaaassste. Touch him. We can soak it in through our skin, too._

Nero licks his own (bloodless) lips, and wonders what it would be like to be pinned down on Vergil's desk right now. What it would be like to have Vergil's body pressing him down. Blood in his mouth and blood all over his skin and all that monstrous, barely-human power on top of him. Power between his legs. Power _inside_ him.

Vergil tilts his head a little as if he can hear -- or more likely, smell -- this fantasy. "Have you forgotten our contract, Nero?"

While he works for Vergil, he cannot _have_ Vergil. And until this very moment, Nero was happy with that stipulation.

Vergil extends a hand to one side. Biallis deliberately drifts into his reach. He snatches her close and shoves her to her knees at once, where she makes a pleased sound and starts unfastening his blood-drenched pants. Nero looks at this and suddenly understands: Vergil means to do to her what he _wants_ to do to Nero. Sticking to the contract must be hard on him, too.

But those are Nero's pants to unfasten. That's Nero's cock to suck. That's his hair that should be gripped in Vergil's hand. And if he has to kill Biallis to make that happen, then so be it --

"Now, now," Vergil says. Guiltily, Nero realizes he's on the brink of triggering, his fists clenched, his breath coming fast.

Vergil smiles. His canines are longer than the should be. "You've had a long day, Nero. Go on home -- but on your way out, send Malvolus in too, please. I think Biallis might need help."

Two demons to take the fierce lust that otherwise Vergil would inflict on Nero alone. Nero's whole body aches with unsatisfied craving -- but no. He _doesn't want this_. Does he?

Does he?

Biallis has gotten Vergil's pants open. Nero can't see anything because her hair is in the way, but the delighted purr she is uttering as her head undulates in familiar movements leaves nothing to the imagination. Something that she does makes Vergil bare his teeth suddenly, white flash in a bloody red face. His eyes shut for a moment, then open again, still fixed on Nero.

And Nero wants, dear God, he _wants_ to be the one who makes Vergil feel like that --

No.

With a soft snarl at himself, Nero grabs his things from the closet and stalks out into the staff office, heedless of his own nudity, and the fact that he's tracking red over the marble floor. He just needs to get out. He forgets to speak to Malvolus -- the pretty dark-skinned demon -- but Malvolus is already on his way toward the office. He nods to Nero with a peaceable smile which feels only a little mocking, because too much of it is already tinged with eagerness and lust for the storm to come.

A storm Nero that could share, if only...

The office door shuts behind Malvolus, and Nero stops in the middle of the staff room, trembling a little.

Clarion and Amenon, the remaining two demons on Vergil's staff, are still at their desks in the room beyond. Amenon keeps his gaze focused demurely on the desk, but Clarion sighs and boldly looks up at Nero. "Your refusal is our gain, young lord," she says softly. "While your noble sire hungers for you, and eases his lust in us, we are blessed. But we would give anything to be you, instead."

Nero stares at them. In the room behind him, he can hear violent movement -- something being slammed into place, something else shoved aside. He feels stupid, incomplete, unable to focus. "To be... me?"

"We are nothing to him." She smiles with only a hint of regret, tossing a lock of her lovely green-tinted hair over her shoulder. "He thinks of himself as a demon, but the truth is that he scorns our soullessness even as he uses our bodies. Only Lord Dante is his equal. As are you, apparently." Nero blinks; she inclines her head in graceful irony. "He would not bother to court _us_, after all."

From the room behind him, Nero hears Malvolus shout, his voice breaking. "My lord -- oh! My lord!" Is that pain in Malvolus' voice? Pleasure? What is Vergil doing to him? Nero shudders, trying not to imagine it. The smell of blood is thick in his head, and he's hard as a fucking rock, out here in the open where everyone can see. If he jerks off in the staff bathroom before he heads home, the demons will know the instant they catch a whiff, but at least then Nero won't be tormented by the urge to jump anyone on the homeward commute.

And the idea that Vergil is _courting_ him...

_It's working_, he thinks miserably. Not because Vergil is any great charmer, but because Nero is finally beginning to understand that there's a lot more monster in his own soul than he ever dreamed.

Fuck.

#

Dante finds him in his room, huddled in a corner, curled up in a ball. When Dante crouches to sigh at him, Nero hides his face behind one arm. "Don't," he blurts.

Dante shakes his head. "You need it. Look at you."

Nero folds his demon arm over his head and the back of his neck. He doesn't need to protect himself against Dante -- he belongs to Dante and does not begrudge Dante any bit of that ownership -- but it's a thing he's always done when he felt vulnerable and weak, and he can't help it right now. Masturbating at the office only made things worse. "I'm not gonna... _use_ you. I can control myself!"

Dante's voice is gentle. He is so kind, Nero's monstrous lover, and so good. "Kid," he says, softly, "you'd be surprised at how often I imagine him when I'm with you -- and how often I want you when I'm near him. Why do you think I want this over with, so all three of us can get to it?"

This makes Nero uncurl, however, and look up at Dante. He's shaking, and panting. He can't think. "I... I need..."

Dante shakes his head, bemused, and stands up, stripping off his jacket. Nero stares, his desperate hunger abruptly shifting focus, as Dante shucks off shirt and pants -- he doesn't do underwear -- and then stands before him, tall and magnificent and nude, cock already half hard. He smirks as Nero makes a little sound of need and crawls toward him. "All yours. Imagine it belongs to whoever you want."

He loves Dante so much. As he falls upon Dante, slurping and stroking and shuddering at the weight upon his tongue, the salt and musk, he will not allow himself to imagine someone else. He wants Dante too, after all. Instead, as the stroke of cockhead against the back of his throat drags gut-deep twinges of pleasure out of him, and he puts a hand down to frantically caress himself, he thinks, _Maybe I shouldn't have come here. Maybe they're too much for me._

He comes on this thought, spurred to it by the blessed reward of Dante gushing down his throat. When Dante flops onto Nero's bed, groaning, Nero stays on the floor with his face pressed against Dante's knee, panting and clumsily trying to wipe his come off Dante's boot with fingers that won't stop shaking. And of course, in this moment he has an epiphany, and suddenly understands what he could not, or would not, before.

A monster, after all, does not want a mate who is prey. It wants a fellow predator. Another monster. What Vergil wants is _an equal_.

Nero sits awake, contemplating this, until dawn.

#

In the morning, Nero wakes up with one very clear thought in his head.

He gets up, showers, actually brushes his hair, and shaves. Dante's got some cologne in the bathroom, but he doesn't want to smell like Dante -- no more than he already does, anyway. He puts on the pretty blue silk shirt that he's had an eye on for three days. His hands are still rough while he handles it, but he's careful. There are some nice pants amid the things Vergil has given him, dark red leather, and he tries these, since they were paired with the shirt. They fit him perfectly. Vergil has a good eye.

He looks at himself in a hallway mirror and tries it on -- not the clothes, but the concept. "I, uh, I look good. Don't I? I look nice." He looks anxious and disbelieving. Taking a deep breath, he straightens. "I don't care what I look like. More important things to do. But I'm, um, beautiful." 

He flinches away, embarrassed, when Dante whistles from his bedroom door. Mumbling something vaguely apologetic, Nero starts to hurry away.

"You _are_ beautiful, you know," Dante says.

Nero stops. He's hunched up again, feeling hunted, and haunted. "Wh-what?"

Dante shakes his head and comes over, taking hold of his shoulders and pushing them back until Nero straightens up. "There. You're _gorgeous_, kid. I don't know why you think otherwise, but you look like a Sparda, and we are a fine and glorious line across all our forms. Gorgeous body." He draws a thumb under the bottom of Nero's lip. "Soft, fuckable lips." His hand slides up Nero's cheek. "I even like your jaw. You've got Vergil's face shape, you know."

"I do?" _Vergil_ is beautiful.

"Yeah. But you don't have his eyes -- which is good, because he looks like the evil son of a bitch he is. I mean, I actually kinda love that, but I also like that you look sweet." Dante leans in to nuzzle his ear. "Except when you're fighting."

Nero grimaces, shifting from foot to foot. "Then I just look like a demon." In either shape.

"Yeah. And I don't know if you've ever seen a portrait, but you specifically look like _Sparda_ in that shape." Nero starts, and Dante grins and smooths a hand over Nero's hair -- carefully, so as not to muss it. He's seen the care that Nero's taken with his appearance today. "Especially when you're really feeling your power. That arm of yours is like _his_ arms; he used to shine from within the same way. You've got his horns, too. Yours are slimmer than his, not as curvy, but same position, same shape. Your coloring's different, and you don't eat enough, but mostly you're built like him, way more than Verge or me. And Sparda was so beautiful that Mundus, a demon _god_, damn near tore up the two worlds when Sparda dumped him."

That's... huh. Nero's never really thought about whether family resemblances show in demonic forms. Dante and Vergil look nothing alike in their trigger states. Then again, Nero's found those states beautiful, graceful and powerful in ways he's never seen in another demon. He's also never considered whether men whose idea of beauty ranges across species and worlds might have different standards for what qualifies, in their eyes.

In his mind, the demon purr-hisses, sitting up in that coquettish way it always does when Dante praises it. _Yessss. We **are** beautiful and powerful and fine. More than worthy of a demon lord. Yessss?_

Nero swallows and looks at himself again. Dante drapes a possessive arm over his chest from behind, and sits his head on Nero's shoulder, watching him with amusement. That actually emphasizes it. He can see, now, that the pattern of his face is wholly different from Dante's, triangular to Dante's rectangle. Not unattractive, though. He can see the sweetness that Dante spoke of in his own eyes, though at the moment it is buried under a mountain of self-doubt and fear.

How offensive. What's he afraid of? He's strong enough to fuck up the whole world, or a good portion of it, if he sets his mind to it. And why does he look so lost? He's found his place with these men. He isn't alone anymore.

Dante's grin widens. "Yeah. There he is." He nuzzles Nero's ear again. "Man, you don't know how much I want to muss you up right now. But I can do delayed gratification. Go get him, kid. Bring him with you when you come home tonight."

And then Nero recalls the thought he woke up with -- the answer to his worries of the previous night. If indeed these two men are too much for him... well, then, fuck, he's just gonna have to get stronger. Because he wants them both.

He grins back at Dante in the mirror. The grin is still a little shy. He's not going to lose that anytime soon, probably. But at least he isn't afraid anymore.

He heads off to work.

In the office, Biallis' desk is empty, and there's a little sign saying she's out for the day. Malvolus is at her desk instead. He looks dazed, and there's still a livid mark on the back of his neck -- a once-savage wound, healed now although the scar is still pink. He and the others look up and murmur greetings when Nero comes in. Nero ignores them, however, striding past, and he's aware of how they look at each other and then lower their gazes, respectfully. Yes, that is proper; they are beneath him. They don't matter. Only the master of this place merits Nero's attention and time.

Vergil is at his desk when Nero comes in to stand before him. Amazingly, the office is completely clean of blood; apart from a fading, faint tang of Verret and the stronger scent of cleaning chemicals, there's no hint of what happened the day before. Vergil himself is impeccable as usual, but there is something about his stillness that's off. His hands rest, palms-down and apparently relaxed, on the desktop before him, though he's not looking at anything on his screen. His gaze is fixed somewhere in the middle distance. "Nero," he says. Inflectionless. Carefully controlled, even though the need that he vented on his staff the previous evening is still present, unsatisfied. Nero can feel it hovering between them, a tension in the air. "Good morning."

"Same to you," Nero says. "I quit."

Vergil's gaze jerks up to his. Nero smiles, then moves around the desk towards him. Slowly, so as to present no threat, but the demon has uncurled in his mind, and he knows there is a certain predatory grace in the way he moves, right now. That's enough to make Vergil's gaze lock onto him as he turns his chair to face Nero. It doesn't feel strange to slide into Vergil's chair, knees straddling his lap, or to put hands on his chest, sliding them up the ridges of his vest. Once, he feared this man, and told himself it was hate. It was neither.

"I want to be yours," Nero says. Then he leans in and kisses Vergil. He can feel Vergil's surprise -- but an instant later his hands lock around Nero's hips, fingers tight as vises. When Nero nips him, soliciting his attention, Vergil's mouth opens up like a trap, and all at once he is _swallowing_ Nero, drinking him up, lips and tongue and teeth eating at Nero's until Nero is moaning, pressing closer, trying to pull away so he can offer his throat. Vergil won't let him, at first. It's hard not to fight him, because there is a perverse, savage part of Nero that wants violence. The whole point of this exercise, though, is to submit. To give Vergil what he wants. Nero is anxious and too hungry and too wild in his desire; Vergil is strong and older and wise, capable of taming him in all the ways he needs to be tamed. If Nero can bring himself to trust, he senses instinctively, Vergil will give Nero everything that he needs, and more.

Their mouths part. Nero is panting, forehead pressed against Vergil's. Vergil takes a long, slow breath for control, then lets go of Nero's hip to touch something on his desk screen. "Malvolus. Cancel my appointments for today." He considers for a moment, his gaze dark and hungry as his eyes roam over Nero. "Tomorrow, too." He closes the comm before Malvolus can respond. 

Then it's just him and Nero, and Nero has his full attention.

Nero swallows and unbuttons the pretty Vergilian blue shirt, lifting his chin to bare his throat. Vergil stops his hands. "Not yet. Get up."

Nero obeys, climbing out of the chair, but he immediately sinks to his knees, bowing his head at Vergil's feet. "Please."

He hears Vergil draw in a long slow breath, and let it out with equal slowness, for control. His hand finds Nero's hair, and Nero shuts his eyes, momentarily overwhelmed with delight in Vergil's obvious approval. "Another prince of Hell," Vergil says softly. "I thought so little of you when we first met -- but now, at last, you know your value. And a prince does not beg... except at the feet of a king." He stands, and Nero glares up at him, wanting, fierce with it. Vergil's lips have curved in a slight, perfect smile. "Shall I hurt you, then?"

"Please," Nero says again. Begging to be hurt, as Vergil promised. "Yes. Please."

Vergil takes his hand and draws him to his feet.

There's a hidden room in the office, of course, behind one set of lacquered panels, accessible by a button under Vergil's desk. Behind the panel is a small bedroom, where Vergil obviously sleeps when he doesn't feel like going home or to Dante's. Here he undresses Nero slowly, tasting his flesh as it is bared, visibly savoring his nipples and the sharp tips of his demon claws and the base of his cock, where the ring thrums beneath his lips. Here he puts Nero on his knees again, and permits Nero a taste of himself. "Now, now," he chides, when Nero gets too eager in his slurping and swallowing.

"No contract anymore," Nero murmurs, before sucking him down again. Vergil bares his teeth the way he did for Biallis, which makes Nero growl around his mouthful, feeling possessive and giddy and proud.

"I promised you pain," Vergil says later, when they are buried in the bed and his cock is buried in Nero, and Nero is trembling and gasping and losing his mind. Vergil keeps his thrusts deep, precise, deliberately tormenting Nero's prostate while Nero moans. "But pleasure can be so good that it hurts, sweet Nero. Anticipation can be so ferocious that it drives one mad." To demonstrate this, he licks a long line along the tendon at the side of Nero's neck. Nero writhes and clutches at him, needing teeth and pain. But Vergil will not claim him. His teeth gleam in the slanting light. "When one keeps a king waiting, there are consequences."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, please, please -- "

"Shhh." Vergil's voice is low, rich, breathy with the rhythm of steady fucking. It's all torturously gentle. "Normally, one gives two weeks' notice before leaving employment. I can be generous, but I do expect at least one last day's work out of you, given that you actually reported in on time. That's only fair, isn't it? And here it's not even lunchtime." Then he lifts Nero into his lap, and has him that way for a while.

Eight hours can seem like forever, under the right conditions.

By the time Nero becomes aware of time again, he is wrecked and limp, facedown in the middle of Vergil's bed. Vergil isn't fucking him anymore, but his seed is in Nero's ass and belly and hair. His cock is still heavy and half hard where it rests on the backs of Nero's thighs. "There, now," he says, against Nero's ear. He's covering Nero's body, hands pinning Nero's down. His claws have materialized; there is a growl growing underneath his amiable purr. They are demons. No amount of gentleness lasts forever. "That wasn't so bad, was it? And you even gave me a little overtime."

Nero manages a grunt. His throat is sore. His nipples are sore. His ass is a dull, throbbing echo of endless, relentless fucking. It doesn't exactly hurt. It just feels like Vergil's still inside him. Maybe that will never go away, and he'll just keep feeling like he's being fucked all the time, for the rest of his life. But it is the unfulfilled need in his mind that threatens to drive him mad, so he does not complain about the rest. He's stopped begging for the bite, though his body throbs with that, too -- the need for it. He awaits his lord's mercy.

Vergil sighs, hot breath tickling the back of Nero's neck. There are dominance pheromones in the air now, molten-hot and thickening, curling off Vergil's skin. "Say that you're mine, pretty Nero."

It takes a monumental effort to speak. Vergil has simply worn him out. "Hn... 'Myours. Yours."

"Say that you will obey me in all things." The scent sharpens, spiking toward intent, and everything that is demon in Nero responds with abject need.

"Everything... anything." Nero shuts his eyes and feels tears burn the lids. "P-please."

Vergil kisses the back of his neck, and Nero whimpers helplessly. "You wanted to know why I offered you this job, why I wanted you to know me. It's because I will have nothing less than you've given Dante. Do you love me?"

Three days ago, Nero would have laughed at the question. Now, hearing this feels like a benediction. _Give him what he wants_, Dante said, and of course Dante was 100% right. What Dante didn't say was that Nero could not spend three days in Vergil's presence, listening to his arrogant laugh and seeing through his airs and recognizing the hungry monster that lurked behind both, without wanting Vergil back. Without loving him, as he loves the monster in Dante, and now himself.

"Yeah," Nero says, shutting his eyes in complete submission. "I do -- "

He hasn't even finished the words before Vergil utters a deep, bed-shaking snarl and then bites the living shit out of him. The teeth embedded in his muscle, cracking bones, are sharp and long as knitting needles, and Vergil is completely merciless as he literally _gnaws on_ Nero for a few awful moments. It hurts to an insane degree. It's as if Vergil's been saving up all his savagery for this moment when Nero has finally made himself completely vulnerable, and dear God, it's so much savagery. The demon howls in Nero's mind. _Too much!_ it cries, urging him to fight back and break free. _He will kill us!_

_Shut up,_ Nero thinks back, fiercely. There's blood in his mouth. He's bitten through his tongue in his torment. _It's a test, goddamn it._ Not a demon thing, though, which is why the demon doesn't understand it. Only a human heart needs proof of another's trust. Only Vergil demands that proof in the form of pain._ We're going to pass it!_

That silences the demon, in surprise. And when Nero does not fight, after a moment, Vergil utters a satisfied rumble and lets him go. 

A few minutes pass before Nero's spine heals enough to allow him to move. Vergil strokes him gently through these twitching minutes, soothing his agonized gasps, painting Nero with the scents of his newly-established claim. "Very good," Vergil breathes, and the radiant pleasure of his approval pretty much blots out the last of Nero's pain. "_Very_ good, my Nero. My beautiful boy. No one but Dante and I shall have you. No other hands shall touch your perfection. Be welcome to our family, our legacy. Be welcome as mine, in every possible way."

_Loves us_, the demon says, sounding awed.

_Yeah_, Nero thinks, and grins his way to sleep. _Yeah, I guess he actually does. Nice_.

#

Vergil has another, slightly-belated courting gift for Nero, when he finally wakes near midnight: the heavy rectangular case from the Order, freshly cleaned of blood. Nero opens it to find a sword there, disassembled, but clearly well-made. He lifts the blade-tip to examine, and sees that its sharp edge does not so much stop as vanish into infinite fineness. The mechanism in the handle, he suspects, will actually set the thing on fire when he cranks it up. It's amazing. He can't believe anything so well-made could have come from those shitstains on Fortuna.

"Humans occasionally can be worthwhile," Vergil says. He's sitting in Nero's plush chair, slowly stroking his cock as he watches Nero put the sword together. This is entirely too distracting. Nero cuts himself at least six times trying to watch Vergil. "That weapon will do until we can find you a Devil Arm of sufficient worth. A proper Sparda has a sword."

"Yeah, okay." Nero sets the sword down, his gaze fixing on Vergil's dick. He's not really interested in those kinds of swords.

Vergil laughs and, to Nero's great frustration, gets to his feet. "Save it," Vergil says, cupping Nero's chin. "We've kept Dante waiting long enough. And as you've so ably reminded me, I have a duty to both of you."

Nero shudders all over, his breath quickening with fresh anticipation. Both of them. They're going to break him between them, and this time he wants it so fucking bad. He's going to break them right back. That'll be the Spardas, in the end: a big sweaty, bloody pile of crosseyed, half dead, well-fucked, part demons.

They don't bother to get dressed. The window of Vergil's secret bedroom actually slides open, despite being on the sixty-somethingth floor. Wind immediately fills the room, full of the scents of the city that is their territory. Shimmer and Vergil becomes his true self, four wings and blue-black scales and the blaze of hellfire in his eyes. Shimmer and Nero is his match: wings of light, horns like a crown, a sleek and shining young predator. Vergil offers his hand, and Nero takes it. Then they are two streaks against a black sky, hurrying home to lay claim to their third part, which will make them whole at last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY. This got way too long.
> 
> Ending this here because we've got our romantic resolution -- feels a little too quick/unearned, but I also don't want to write this story anymore. This version of Nero is harder to write because he's really got nothing, and he's so broken. He doesn't enjoy fighting the way that canon Nero does, and on some level he still expects Dante and Vergil to get tired of him and kick him out. (Forgot to address that in the fic, whoops, but as soon as Dante realizes it, Nero is in for *such* a lecture on how non-fickle D&V's feelings are. And then they're going to fuck him until he believes it.) But I wanted him to start down the road to recovery here, and I think he does that. He's not on his way to being canon!Nero, who is literally bigger and stronger and bolder, but he's a little closer.
> 
> Also, Vergil will help him get a good job down at the docks, if he still wants. The mafia knows better than to fuck with the Verge. Dante will help him apprentice as a devil hunter, too, if he chooses that career path. Hell, he might even go to college and then take over Vergil's business. He'll be okay.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a friend's suggestion of generic tropes she saw a lot over in K-Pop fandom. Apparently cam boys are really popular there! But I've never actually been into cam porn, so I had to spend time on Chaturbate, etc., to research this. The things I put myself through for fanfic! (And I didn't want to create an account or attach my credit card to anything there, so forgive me if I flubbed any details of how cam tipping, private streams, etc., work.)
> 
> My general thought on how this AU came about is that Vergil's playthrough of the DMC4 Special Edition isn't just a meaningless rehash of what Nero and Dante go through, but actually the way that the Order and Sanctus are defeated. Teen Verg sweeps through and kills errrrrybody before they can get the Savior working properly (because no Nero-battery), then knocks up The Woman In Red and goes home. The Order hasn't recovered or resumed its Savior-building antics by the time Nero comes along, and thus devout members of the Order like Credo and Kyrie's parents have no interest in Nero, and do not adopt him. The pros: demons only occasionally attack Nero throughout his childhood, instead of constantly; no one betrays him. The cons: nobody gives a shit about him, either. He's not remotely as powerful as canon!Nero at this stage and has no sword and shitty self-esteem. He's distrustful and poor and practically a virgin and desperately lonely and touch-hungry. 
> 
> <strike>Will there be more of this? Ah, who the hell knows. Y'all know my muse by now.</strike> ETA: Goddamn it.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Hidden Pretty Things](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23724202) by [BurnItAllDownDahling](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BurnItAllDownDahling/pseuds/BurnItAllDownDahling)


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